Arrow Edition
by C0ldSteel
Summary: That's right-Arrow crossed with Early Edition. Gary Hobson travels to Starling City and finds much more than he bargained for. T for now; eventual slash. First chapter is more like a K or K-plus. The list of Early Edition characters has been added! Finally.
1. The Flight

_Mixing a new show with an old one. I don't even know why I do these things... Got handed this crossover idea, and started getting too many ideas of my own. But I like to go back to old shows sometimes, and Early Edition was a great one that seems like good crossover material. I guess we'll find out._

 _ **In case you're interested:** I decided to pull Gary out of time a bit to make this story work. I could have just changed EE to a modern setting AU but I like the "old fashioned" feel of the 90's for him. (The 90's doesn't really seem that long ago... really I don't think of anything as real history if it's after the 50's, but anyway...) Those sweaters, man. No one else could pull off those sweaters._

 ** _Important:_** For _Arrow, it's the end of season 2 with a couple of changes. **SPOILERS**! Read no further if you haven't seen season 2 yet. So, for this story, Malcolm Merlin died when Oliver thought he killed him in the first place. That frees up Thea to be a little more normal for the sake of this plot. The major intrigue in Starling City has died down, but the Arrow still patrols here and there to protect the innocent. The Black Canary is watching over Laurel and her family; Roy has become a normal guy again._

* * *

It was 6:30 am in Chicago. Gary Hobson smacked his radio alarm and pulled a pillow over his head.

"MEOW." THWACK

Gary groaned. "Okay..." he mumbled into his other pillow.

"MEOW!"

"Okay," he said louder, rolling over and sitting up. "Can't a guy get a day off? Just once? How 'bout a half day, huh?" He staggered to the door and opened it.

An orange cat ran through the door and Gary picked up the waiting newspaper. The front page headline and accompanying picture told him right away that today would be a long and hard one.

 **Starling City Devastated By School Shooting**

"School shooting," Gary murmured as he closed the door and headed for the all-important coffee pot. He read the story as the coffee brewed.

 _It was an ordinary day at Starling Technical College until junior Mike Johansen brought a gun to his two o'clock physics class. The class and its teacher was held hostage for nearly an hour before a SWAT team rushed the room - by that time, five were dead, and another four wounded. Survivors report that Starling City's local vigilante known as The Arrow intervened, but a deadly standoff did not bring the hostage situation to an end. Police have neither confirmed nor denied the rumor that the vigilante was a sixth body taken dead from the scene. If this speculation is correct, Starling may soon know the identity of its erstwhile protector.  
_

 _One of the wounded survivors was Gabriel Cleveland, Johansen's physics teacher. Witnesses say Cleveland attempted to stop Johansen after the first victim was killed, but instead he took a bullet in his right side. Cleveland suffered a fractured rib and damaged lung, but is expected to recover. Five students, including Johansen, were not so fortunate. At this time, the press is not releasing the names of the other deceased students, as loved ones may not yet have been informed of the incident.  
_

Gary went to his phone and dialed the operator.

"Meow."

Gary rolled his eyes. "I'll feed you in a second. The sooner I get this taken care of, the better." The operator picked up. "Yes, I want to place a long-distance call to Starling City. I need to reach someone at Starling Tech. That's the one. Just the administration office is fine. Thanks."

"Meow!"

"Shh! I'm on the phone." Gary waited to be connected.

"MEOW!"

Suddenly, Gary decided that there might have been something he missed. Maybe there was another story, an even more urgent one. After all, the shooting wouldn't happen until two o'clock at least. He began flipping the newspaper's pages.

 _"Thank you for calling Starling Technical College. Your call is important to us. Please stay on the line until an administrator can assist you."_

"Meow."

"Yeah, well, I don't see what's so pressing." Gary continued to skim headlines. "There's nothing here." Some annoying music came over the line.

"Mrow," the cat insisted.

Gary flipped back to the front page. "What?"

"Mew."

"What?!"

 _"Thank you for holding. My name is Leslie; how may I help you?"_

Just then, Gary's eyes fell on the newspaper's date. He was used to it by now - seeing tomorrow's date on today's paper. But he certainly hadn't expected this. "Uh... I wanted to... um... I'm sorry, I just found the information I needed. Thanks anyway." He hung up the phone.

"What's this?" he demanded of the cat. "What the hell is this?"

The cat sniffed carelessly and went to its bowl.

"Yeah, fine. Milk first, questions later.

* * *

It was Saturday, so Gary wasn't surprised to find Marissa Clark already at McGinty's, getting ready for business. He counted himself fortunate to have a friend that would always listen to his problems, no matter how bizarre they got.

"So, in the paper," Gary told her, "it says there's going to be a shooting at Starling Technical College."

"Like Starling City? Wow. What are you going to do - call posing as some sort of official and get them to do a surprise contraband search?"

"I was going to do something along those lines, but then I saw the date."

"Tomorrow?"

"No... twenty-fifteen."

"What?"

"Yeah, something like twenty years from now, this is gonna happen. So I wanna know why I'm getting this paper today."

"Are there any other major catastrophes in there for that day?"

"No, and that's really weird. Heart-warming local color, normal sports lineups... even the obits are practically cheerful. It's just this."

"Okay, there must be a reason the paper is telling you this now."

"Such as?"

Gary knew Marissa's thinking face well, and she was wearing it now. "Maybe something happens today that will change the course of the shooter's life. Maybe if you change what happens today, he won't grow up to be a killer."

"So... I just call up this baby boy named Mike Johansen, tell him to be good, and everything will turn out okay?"

"No, but..." Marissa frowned. "You might have to go there."

"To Starling City?"

"Mhm."

"Marissa... there are like fifteen states between here and there!" Gary exaggerated.

"I think it's more like four..."

"I probably won't be able to get a flight at such short notice. What if I can't get back here in time for tomorrow's paper, huh? What then?"

"Then I'll get a hold of your mom or someone and we'll handle it."

"You and my mom?" Gary couldn't help a little chuckle. "Yeah... no, I don't think so."

"Look, if the paper is telling you that this needs to be handled today, you need to do something about it today, right?"

"That's... logical."

"So, you have to go."

"What about -"

"I'll run McGinty's for you."

"Yeah, but -"

"And I'll feed the cat."

"But what if -"

"It'll be fine. Call me from the airport when you've got a flight booked."

Gary stared at her open-mouthed for a few moments. Finally, he swallowed. "Okay, fine. But only because there's nothing else pressing in the paper... and I have no idea what else to do."

* * *

Next thing he knew, Gary was at the airport, ticket in hand. He had called Marissa and reminded her of several things she already knew, including that he thought this was a mistake. Then it was time to board. He was in the air before nine o'clock.

It had been a rough night, and Gary took advantage of the chance to get a little extra sleep. He didn't wake up until his non-stop flight was about to touch down.

 _I must have really been tired,_ he thought as he took notice of his surroundings as if for the first time. Everyone seemed strange and unfamiliar, the plane seemed like it had been in service a little too long... if he'd noticed that when he boarded, he probably wouldn't have slept so easily. It seemed like the flight had gone quickly, too. Sure, it was only about a two-hour flight and he had slept through most of it, but it still seemed a little weird.

As he deplaned, he thought that none of the flight attendants looked like the one who had explained the safety regulations at the beginning of the flight. The Starling City airport was also a little bigger than he had expected.

 _Well, I'm here... now what? I have to find some folks called Johansen, I guess. Hope it's not a common name around here._

Gary found his way to a pay phone and flipped through the phone book. "Johansen," he muttered quietly, turning to the J's. _Aaron and Jane._ He consulted the paper. _That's them._ He wrote down the address and as an afterthought took the whole pad of paper left for taking messages. On the cab ride over he started thinking up a cover story he could use.

"From out of town?" the driver asked.

"Yeah. Chicago."

"Ah, the windy city. What brings you to Starling?"

"Uh... business."

The cabby glanced in the mirror at him, and Gary thought he looked skeptical. "What kinda business?"

"Department of Statistics."

"Oh, yeah? What's that like?"

"It can be interesting... but it's a lot of polls and surveys, and people don't like taking the time to answer questions."

The cabby seemed satisfied. The ride didn't last long, and soon they were in front of a medium-sized house with a neat picket fence around it.

"You want me to wait?"

"Nah, I'll work this whole block before I'm ready to ride anywhere else. How much I owe you?"

"Eight-fifty."

Gary stared at the display in the front of the cab. "Eight-fifty... that seems a little steep," he said, digging out his wallet. "What's the cost of living like in Starling?"

"Oh, about like most places, I guess... didn't the recession hit Chicago?"

"Recession...?" Gary frowned at the newspaper. "Hey, you're gonna think I'm a head case, but I just drew a blank... what year is it?" he asked, handing over his fare.

"Twenty-fifteen."

"Wh..." _Maybe he thought I said what time is it, and he answered in military time. No, that doesn't make sense... it's morning. No, he was saying the year._ "Twenty-fifteen... boy, time flies."

"Sure does."

"Hey, um... you know what, I may not do the whole block after all. It'll depend on how the first one goes. Why don't you stick around for a minute?"

The cabby agreed to wait and Gary walked up the neat walkway toward the house.

 _2015\. Did I seriously travel almost twenty years into the future? Can I get back? Does that mean that today's the day..._ He knocked on the door and it wasn't long before a man answered it. The man looked about fifty, so that settled it. Mike Johansen wasn't a baby. He was a college-age shooter, and he'd be walking into class that afternoon with a gun.

"Yes? How may I help you?" the man asked.

"Mister Johansen? I'm from the Department of Statistics. If you have a minute I just want to ask you a few questions."

The man checked his watch. "I can spare a minute, Mister...?"

"Hobson. Gary Hobson." Gary shook the man's hand. "First, how long have you lived in Starling City?"

"Fifteen years. My wife was born here."

"I see." Gary took notes on the paper he'd taken from the pay phone. "Any children?"

"Two: Mike and Linda. She was born right before we moved here."

"Uhuh... and how old is Mike?"

"Twenty years old. He's a student at Starling Tech."

"Oh, you must be very proud of him."

"We are... it's not all easy, of course."

"Of course. College life..." Gary shrugged in sympathy. "I remember my college days. Homework that never quite got finished, the food, the roommates... is your son a dorm student?"

"Yes. We moved him into the dorm this year because we hoped it would take some of the hassle out of his day. Getting ready here each morning and driving over - it's just a bit much, you know? He's an engineering student."

"I get that. I was an accounting major. Nothing but respect for engineers. Is he making good grades?"

"So far. He's got a scholarship, so he has to maintain a high average."

"That must be a lot of pressure."

"It certainly is."

Gary tapped his pen against his chin. This was the tricky part. "This has nothing to do with the survey, but... just out of curiosity, have you taken any other measures to help him deal with the stress? Other than moving him into the dorm, I mean?"

"No..." Johansen was eying him in a way very familiar to Gary: the "Is there a point to this, or are you just nosy?" look.

"Well, it's just..." Gary thought fast. "See, when I was an accounting student, I had a college math class with an engineering student, and we were pretty good friends," he invented. "But he was under a lot of pressure from his family, and competition in the class was pretty strong, too. My friend, he actually tried to kill himself."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah... he's better now, but it makes you think - there could be other kids like that out there, ready to snap any time. Kids are under so much stress these days, you know?"

"Mm."

"Maybe they can't all get counseling on a regular basis, but sometimes I think if someone close to them could just give them a little encouragement... you know, give them a call and tell them they're behind them... say they're proud of them... My friend's folks never called, and I think it could have made a huge difference."

"Maybe."

Gary cleared his throat and looked back down at his notepad. "Sorry, where was I?"

He went on with a few more bogus questions and then wrapped it up.

"Thanks for your time, Mister Johansen. I really appreciate it."

Johansen shook Gary's hand again, and he walked back to the waiting cab. He flipped the paper back open as he walked.

"Come on, change," he whispered, watching the front page headline. "Change..." _It wasn't enough._ He sighed and leaned on the cab's passenger side door, looking in through the open window. "Looks like this isn't a good area for what I need after all," he said. "Could you take me over to the college, Starling Tech?"

"Sure, hop in."

Gary got back into the cab, noticing a heavy, sick feeling that he realized had been growing in his stomach since the cabby told him the year. _Here I go to find the kid who's planning to shoot up his classroom... I don't know if I can ever get home, and I have no idea what I'm dealing with. What am I supposed to do?_ He stared at the paper some more, willing it to change, but nothing did. Not a single word.

He wondered who the vigilante in the article was. He hoped whoever it was wouldn't make things more difficult for him. Things were going to be plenty complicated enough without some hot-head trying to take the law into his own hands. _But then again... that's kind of what I am, isn't it?_

* * *

 _Hope you liked the first chapter. If you did, I'd appreciate some feedback.  
_


	2. The Shooter

_I know a few people have looked at it, but no feedback yet. Why so shy? Enjoy chapter two!  
_

* * *

Gary walked into Starling Tech's Administration building just before noon. He approached the young man at the desk and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me. I'm trying to find a certain classroom. My kid brother has physics there this afternoon."

"Physics 101?" the receptionist asked.

"Uh..." Gary consulted the paper. "Well, it's at two o'clock, and a Mister Cleveland teaches it."

"Oh, Doctor Cleveland. That'll be in the Jackson building. Hang on; I'll look it up for you."

Gary tried not to stare at the computer the receptionist was using. Even at a poor angle, he could tell that the words and images on the screen were much clearer and more detailed than anything he was used to in 1996. The receptionist was also using a cordless mouse. Gary had heard of those, but he'd never seen one up close. He wondered if they were standard and cheap in 2015.

"Here we go. Jackson 208."

"And where's the Jackson building?"

"You've never been here before?"

"Uh, it's been a long time..."

The receptionist didn't wait for him to finish. "You go out the way you came in and go to the left. You'll pass the library. Then you cross to the other sidewalk and it's right there. 208 will be one of the closer rooms on the second floor."

"Great. Thanks."

"The class isn't until two, though. You might want to check out the library. Or you could have lunch in the caf."

"Yeah, maybe I'll do that." He turned to leave.

"Hey, if you want to eat here, you'll need a meal ticket."

Gary hesitated, then went back to the desk. "How much?"

"Lunch is twelve dollars."

It was all he could do not to exclaim, "You're joking!" but he remembered what the cabby had said about the recession. "Oh... okay." He pulled out his wallet. He had gotten out some cash before his trip, but it wouldn't last long at this rate. His credit card would definitely not work twenty years after it was issued. What if he had to be there for weeks? Still, it seemed like the best course of action to find Mike Johansen before the physics class started, and the cafeteria seemed like the place he was most likely to be. Grimly, Gary handed over the money.

Meal ticket in his pocket, he found the classroom first, to be sure he knew where it was; some other class was meeting there now. Then he went back outside and followed the majority of the foot traffic, which was headed for the cafeteria.

The eating area was huge - he wouldn't have been surprised if there were over two hundred students already seated, and more were coming in all the time.

"Excuse me," someone said urgently. "I need to see your student ID."

"Oh..." Gary was taken off guard. "I'm... not actually a student anymore - I'm here visiting my brother. Here." He held out his meal ticket to the woman fiercely guarding the lunch line.

"Thank you. You need to remember to turn it in, or it does you no good."

"Yes, ma'am. I wasn't thinking about it."

Well, at twelve dollars a head, the line was probably well worth guarding. On the other hand, _At twelve dollars a head, the food had better be something pretty damn special._

Lunch turned out to be an interesting concoction: macaroni and cheese with hotdog slices mixed in. At least it looked like the good kind of mac and cheese - the kind made with real shredded cheese and not the powdered, MSG-packed stuff. There was also a salad bar with plenty of little extras. Gary put enough food on his tray to make a decent meal, but he rushed through the line. He needed to find Mike Johansen sometime in the next two hours, and all he had to go on were a name and a grainy black and white head shot.

By now, Gary was accustomed to asking odd questions of strangers, and he decided it was no good putting it off. He began going from table to table, asking the same questions of the chattering students.

"Hey, I'm trying to find a student of mine, Mike Johansen. He's an engineering major. Junior. You know him? Dark hair, average build..."

Finally, someone recognized the name. "Mike? Yeah, we've got an elective together." The boy stood up and scanned the crowded tables. "Hm... I dunno. He might have lunch at one today... No, I take it back, he's got noon lunch. What's your name?"

"Gary."

"Nice to meet you, Gary. I'm Joe." Joe shook Gary's hand briefly. "You're a teacher?"

"Grad student - teaching a class while I work on my doctorate." Why was it so easy to lie? He felt a little less nervous each time he did it, and for some reason, _that_ made him nervous.

"Well, I don't see Mike right now, but if I do, I'll point him in your direction. You got somewhere to sit?"

"Not yet. I was hoping to sit with Mike."

"Yeah... Tell you what - I see some of my friends at another table. I'll go see if any of them has seen him."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Gary watched anxiously as Joe went to a table and talked to his friends.

The friends began looking around, talking animatedly, and finally, one of them pointed across the room. Joe beckoned Gary over. "We got a clue - Rae says she saw Mike heading for the other end of the caf. He's got to be down there somewhere. Come on."

Gary followed his new guide and in another minute Joe exclaimed, "There he is, down near the tray return. Gee, if I knew he was gonna be all by himself, I'd have sat with him in the first place. You go ahead and I'll go get my tray."

Not wanting Joe to catch him in the lie that Mike was his student, Gary said, "Won't your other friends be annoyed? You were sitting with them first."

"Ah, they won't mind."

"Well, I kind of wanted to talk to Mike about something... it's kind of important, but I'm not sure he'd want me bringing it up with you there, you know?"

To Gary's relief, Joe didn't push it. "Gotcha. I'll just go back, then."

"Okay. Thanks a lot for helping me find him."

"No problem, Gary. See ya."

 _Now what?_ Gary knew this was the crucial moment - the part where he fixed everything or ruined his chance to. _What story do I use this time?_

* * *

"Mike Johansen?"

Mike looked up with a blank expression. "Yeah?"

"Hey, Mike. My name's Gary. I'm your guidance counselor."

"My... guidance counselor?"

"Yeah, part of the new program. Didn't your RA announce it?"

"No... I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh." Gary looked chagrined. "Well, that makes it a little awkward, doesn't it? Okay, here's what's going on: The school has assigned guidance counselors to all the upperclassmen. We're there to help you keep on track to make sure you graduate on time, and to help you find a career path afterwards."

"And you meet with us at lunch?"

"Ordinarily, no. But I'll be away next week, and I wanted to make sure I got to meet all my students before I left. I'm using whatever spare time I can find."

"Okay..." Mike took a bite of his macaroni.

"Anyway, I'm a grad student and I teach a freshman writing class while I work on my doctorate. I'd like you to tell me a little about yourself."

Mike responded with the typical attitude of someone who knew their valuable time was about to be wasted and there was nothing they could do about it. "I guess you know I'm an engineering major."

"Yeah. How do you like that?"

"Okay."

"Do you know what you want to do with it when you graduate?"

"Not for sure. I guess I'll just be freelance until I get a contract with some company, you know?"

He didn't even sound interested in his own future, so far as Gary could tell. "Is there some particular project you'd like to work on? Are you interested in architecture, or mechanics, or...?"

Mike looked more bored than ever - maybe even a bit annoyed. "I don't know. I guess mechanics is interesting."

"Is anything wrong?" Gary asked. He felt the familiar little nervous symptoms that reminded him he still wasn't totally comfortable having other people's lives in his hands.

"No... I'm just tired of getting asked the same questions all the time. Teachers, roommates, you, my parents..."

"Have your parents given you any advice about your career?"

"Sure - have one."

Gary chuckled, but it was mostly out of nerves. What would make this kid want to kill his classmates? "Is there something you'd rather be doing than engineering?"

"I don't know. Not really."

They ate without talking for a minute or two. Then Gary tried again.

"So, do your friends have many classes with you?"

"Some."

"That's good. You have a girl friend?"

Mike cleared his throat. "No. Not seeing anyone right now."

"Is that how you want it? I know you're really busy - junior year and all..."

"It's probably better that way right now."

"Mm." Gary doubted he'd made any headway. He looked at the large clock on the wall at the end of the cafeteria. It was after twelve-thirty now.

Noting the glance, Mike said, "Listen, I've got a free hour after lunch and I'd like to use it to study... Doctor Cleveland likes to give us pop quizzes in physics class."

"Right. That... that's probably a good idea. I'd like to talk with you again before I leave on my trip, so... I'll be in touch."

"Okay." Mike wasn't looking at him. He might as well not even be there.

"Okay." Gary pushed his chair out and picked up his tray. "I'll see you 'round."

He dropped off his tray and looked at the paper. The front page didn't seem to have changed at all. Then he skimmed down below the main story and his eyes widened. _Was that already there, or did it change just now?_ He hadn't checked the paper thoroughly after leaving the Johansens' house - he'd just been looking for the lead story to change. Now there was a small companion report to the lead, complete with head shot.

 **Father of Starling Tech Shooter Takes Own Life**

 _Tragedies followed fast on each other's heels yesterday in Starling City..._

Gary skimmed the story, searching for the vital information; years of practice had made him proficient in picking it out.

 _Jane Johansen broke the news to her husband by phone. "He was devastated," said the grieving mother. "He said 'If only I'd known. Why didn't I call him?' I told him to come home." But instead of going to his wife, Aaron Johansen, 48, threw himself from the top of his company building in downtown Starling._

"You gotta be kidding me," Gary muttered. "They seem like a pretty normal family, but underneath they're total crack-ups..."

Just then, he ran into someone. Someone familiar.

"Joe, I'm sorry... didn't see you there."

"That's okay. You looked pretty intent on that paper."

"Yeah, I guess so." Gary rolled up the paper and put it into his back pocket.

"I saw you were leaving and wanted to catch you - is everything okay with Mike?"

"Um... I think so. Listen, Joe, is there someplace I can use a phone? It's important."

"Don't you have one in your office?"

"W-well, yeah, but I locked it up 'cause I wasn't planning on going back there today, and the key's all the way in my apartment..."

"Ah, say no more. You can use the phone in my dorm room. It's not far."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." _I have about an hour to fix this. After that... it's put myself in harm's way, or stand back and let it happen._

* * *

 _End chapter two. Arrow characters will get involved soon. Interested? Leave some feedback, please.  
_


	3. The Archer

_Action in this chapter - and the Arrow, at last! Enjoy. Don't forget to review._

* * *

Gary stretched the phone's extra-long cord out into the hall so he could get some privacy without asking Joe to leave him alone in his dorm room. When he heard Aaron Johansen pick up, he disguised his voice as best he could so the other man would not realize Gary was the one he had talked to that morning.

"Mister Johansen, my name is Chuck Fishman. I'm your son's guidance counselor at Starling Tech."

"Guidance counselor?"

"Yes, it's part of a new program. There's one assigned to each upperclassman now."

"That seems like it would take a lot of manpower."

"Each counselor is assigned several students, so there only have to be a couple dozen of us."

"Oh, I see. What can I do for you? I'm just about to go to lunch."

"I won't take much of your time," Gary said quickly. "It's just that I had my first meeting with Mike today, and I got the impression he was very depressed about something. It's hard to get a kid to open up to you in just a few minutes... I was hoping you could give me some insight."

"Mike seemed depressed? That's news to me."

"How often do you talk to him?"

"Every week or two."

"You think you can know what your son's going through if you're communicating on a biweekly basis?"

"Maybe not. but if Mike is depressed I doubt he'd mention it, even if we spoke every day." Johansen sounded irritated now.

Oh well... Gary never expected to be popular with the people he helped. "Maybe he wouldn't, but that doesn't mean it isn't serious."

"You really think it is?"

"Well, sir, I wouldn't be calling you if I didn't think so. I see stressed-out kids all the time, but this is different. It's deep in there. Something's really bothering him."

"Look, Mister..."

"Fishman."

"Mister Fishman, I won't try to tell you how to do your job, but you said this was your first meeting, right? The kid was probably just uptight because he doesn't know you. Mike's always been like that. He's really smart, but it takes time for him to trust people."

"Well, I - "

"I'm sorry, but I need to go now."

"If you'd just - "

"Goodbye, Mister Fishman." Johansen hung up.

Gary looked at his watch. Less than an hour until the class began. He went back into Joe's room and hung up the phone. "Joe, do you know if Mike does his studying in his dorm room? He said he had this hour free..."

Joe smirked. "Studying? I don't know if Mike ever studies. I heard he reads his textbooks for 'light reading' and the rest of the time he's studying stuff online. Projects going on with scientists and engineers and stuff. He gets good grades without even trying."

"Seriously?" Gary frowned. "So, if there was a pop quiz in physics next hour..."

"He wouldn't sweat it. Just bonus points for him."

 _He ditched me._ It wasn't the first time, but that didn't make it a nice feeling. "If he doesn't need to study, what would he do with a free hour?"

"I don't know... he's always got some project. He likes to design stuff. Could be in his room, could be in the library..." Joe shrugged.

"What's his dorm room?"

"Gray something... third floor, I think. Don't know beyond that. We could look him up in the directory. Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure. I think there's something bad going on with Mike, but I don't know how to help him. I'd appreciate it if you keep that to yourself, though."

"Yeah, of course." Joe went to his desk and woke up a laptop computer. "Just a sec and I'll find his room."

It took a few minutes for Joe's computer to come alive and for him to log into the school directory. "Gray three-twelve," he reported.

"Which dorm is Gray?"

"It's the one on the other end..."

"Of course it is," Gary muttered. "Okay, thanks. If he's not there, I'll try the library."

"I hope you find him. Let me know if I can do anything else for you."

"Yeah, thanks a lot." Gary patted Joe's shoulder and hurried from the room.

He walked briskly up the sidewalk toward Gray dormitory. He would have run, but he didn't want to attract a lot of attention. It seemed like he would never arrive, but finally he did - and then he had all the stairs to deal with. There were no elevators in the dormitories. Finally, out of breath, he came to Gray 312 and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

"Great." Gary was about to turn away when his eyes fell on the sign on the door. It was a sheet of poster board with pieces of colored paper taped on. Each paper bore a different name. One said, "Mike Johansen, Junior Engineering major."

After a moment's hesitation, Gary opened the door and slipped inside. No one was in the room, and from experience Gary knew he should make his search as quick as possible. He took his best guess at which area was Mike's... _Yeah, probably the desk with the Rube Goldberg-looking... thing on it..._ and began hunting through drawers and folders. _Papers. Essays. Quizzes. Tests. Scantrons... they still use those in 2015? Huh. Pictures..._

The pictures were of a pretty girl. There were none of his father, it wasn't old enough to be his mother, and with no one else represented, Gary highly doubted that this was Mike's sister. She looked college-age. Hesitating only a moment, Gary tucked one of the pictures into his breast pocket. Then he put the folders back hurriedly and went to the door.

No one was in the hall when he left the room. The wall clock told him he had half an hour. He would take a quick look around the library and then head over to the Jackson building. At least the two buildings were close to each other.

It was hard trying to recognize someone you barely knew when you were in a hurry. Gary had a lot of experience at it, but it didn't seem to get much easier. He rushed through each section of the library, sparing only one hard look at each dark-haired male he encountered. Mike wasn't there, as far as he could tell.

He jogged across to the Jackson building, not caring anymore whether people thought his behavior was odd. He used the railing to tug himself up the steps faster, skipping every other step. He arrived at room 208 with more than ten minutes to go. Another class was in session inside the classroom. Gary looked up and down the hall. He took out the paper and watched it desperately. He began to pace.

The bell startled him. Students began pouring from the classrooms. Gary stood to one side of the door and waited for a break in the human traffic before entering. The teacher was packing up his materials, so he clearly wasn't staying to teach another class. A couple of students entered the room and went to their desks. The teacher left and another finally came to take his place.

"Doctor Cleveland?" Gary asked.

"Yes," the teacher answered. "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, my name's Gary; I'm a guidance counselor to some of your students."

"Good to meet you, Gary." Cleveland shook Gary's hand.

"Listen, is it okay if I audit today's class? I know you're supposed to arrange these things ahead of time, but I've been so busy getting ready for my trip out of town..."

"I don't mind," the teacher answered, looking only mildly suspicious. "There are some empty seats in the back."

"Do you have a seating chart?"

Now Cleveland definitely looked suspicious. "I do..."

"See, I want to make sure I don't put myself too close to any of the students I'm counseling - I don't want to distract them."

"I see." The teacher opened his briefcase and shuffled some papers before producing the one Gary wanted.

Gary looked over the chart. "Okay," he muttered, eyes flitting from one name to the next. Finally, he spotted "Mike J." "Got it; thanks." Mike sat near the back anyway, so Gary was able to take the desk behind Mike's without arousing the teacher's suspicions any further.

He watched the students coming in. They gave him curious glances but didn't ask any questions. The bell rang again. It was two o'clock.

Mike slipped through the door a moment later and closed it behind him. Gary tensed, ready to spring from his seat, but not knowing exactly what he would do. Mike came toward him, looking like he didn't know what to make of Gary's presence. Gary gave him the most positive look he could muster and mouthed, "Hey."

Mike took his seat slowly and set his backpack on the floor by his desk.

 _Being careful because you're hiding a gun somewhere?_ Gary thought, his heart rate beginning to pick up speed. He could see students pulling out phones and calculators - no, they were all phones. _Phones are that small now? And they don't have buttons... you just touch the screen?_ They seemed to be checking messages right on their sleek little phones. It was hard to focus.

"All right, class," Dr. Cleveland said briskly, "let's begin. Please put your phones away. Come on, everyone. You too, Miss Brown. Thank you. Now, you may have noticed we have a guest today; Gary is just here to audit the class, so please don't allow him to distract you. If you have your short essays on inertia, please pass them forward."

There was a lot of rustling as students got papers out of their folders. Mike opened his bag and pulled out something dark that glinted in the light streaming through the window.

Gary lurched forward and grabbed Mike's arm with both hands. "Don't do it, Mike."

Surprised, Mike struggled for a moment before passing the gun to his other hand and firing it indiscriminately. A couple of students screamed. Gary moved to get hold of Mike's other arm, but he was soon faced with the barrel of the gun and he let go.

"You don't want to do this," Gary said earnestly.

Cleveland had gotten out from behind his desk and was now covering the short distance to Mike's. Mike turned forward and fired again. Cleveland staggered to the floor. Mike turned the gun on Gary again and stood up. "Don't move! Everyone stay where you are!"

Gary looked around for the first time since the gun appeared. A girl was slumped over her desk her neighbor was doing her best to wrap the girl's injured arm in some light article of clothing. Cleveland was leaning back against his desk on the floor. _It could be worse... the paper said the first victim was killed before Cleveland got hit. No one's dead yet._ He noticed the gun itself - there was something strange about it. It looked like a revolver, but there seemed to be extra cylinders mounted around the frame.

"It's okay," Gary said, not very calm but trying to project calmness. His heart was pounding and his hands were beginning to tremble. The paper said a lot of people died. If he wasn't careful, he could be one of them. "You don't have to do this, Mike. Just tell us what you want."

Mike moved to the front of the classroom. "What do I want," he scoffed. Suddenly, he looked at the door and pointed his gun toward it. A face disappeared from the narrow window in the door. "If that door opens, I kill a hostage!" he shouted. Then he chuckled quietly. "Not like I won't anyway."

"What's wrong, Mike?" Cleveland asked from the floor, struggling for breath. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Why _not_ do it? What does it matter? Look at this!" He knelt by the teacher and tilted his gun one way and then the other. "Nice, isn't it? Four cylinders. Each one's loaded with six shots. I can kill everyone in this room without having to reload!"

"What's the point?" Gary asked. "Why do you want to kill your classmates?"

"You've got no clue!" Mike shouted. "Your brain's so tiny you can't see it! Look! I made this. I have dozens of projects like this. I could do anything I wanted but I'm stuck here taking this stupid class from a teacher I could be teaching."

"Okay, so you're head of your class and you're not being challenged..."

"It's not just this. Everything's like that - everything's pointless. I can do whatever the hell I want, and there's not a single thing I want to do!"

"There's still so much we don't know," Cleveland said weakly. "You were interested in biomechanics, weren't you? Think of how medicine and engineering can work together to prolong people's lives... isn't that something you'd like to pursue?"

"I'm past that. I'm way past that. You should know that from the hole in you. You really think I can just settle down and go back to engineering and everyone will forget this? I wouldn't want it that way even if it were possible. I'm making my mark here. This gun is going to be famous long after no one remembers who invented it. The Starling Tech Shooting gun. And that's how I'll live on and laugh at you ants trying to live a life that means something. Nothing means anything." Mike lifted his gun again.

Gary jumped out of his seat. "Don't!"

Mike turned the gun on Gary and fired.

Gary felt a sting at the side of his neck. He covered the wound with his left hand and leaned on the desk of a shuddering boy. "Mike, you haven't killed anyone yet. This doesn't have to ruin your life."

"I told everyone to stay put!" Mike exclaimed angrily. "Get back to your seat!"

"Okay..." Gary held out his free hand in an appeasing gesture, slowly made his way backward to the desk he had occupied and sat down again.

"You came to this class because you knew this was going to happen, didn't you?"

Gary had pulled his hand off his wound long enough to see that it was bleeding quite a bit. He had thought the bullet barely nicked him, but maybe it was more serious after all. "This or something like it," he said, deciding that denying it wouldn't help.

"You're smarter than I gave you credit for."

"Thanks."

Gary heard the faint wail of a siren. Students began to look up expectantly.

"Round two," Mike said. "Almost time for the real fun to start."

Just then there was a terrific crash as a dark shape came through the window at the front of the class, just beyond the first row of desks. A figure dressed in green landed on three limbs before springing up, lifting a bow Robin Hood-style and drawing back an arrow on the string. Mike fired, but his shot went wide, punching a hole in another pane of glass.

"The real fun already started," the newcomer declared in a deep voice.

Gary had almost forgotten about the vigilante. _That's him? Geez, I hope he doesn't get us all killed._

Mike cocked his gun and fired again, but the vigilante was a moving target. An arrow glanced off the gun and stuck in the door behind Mike.

"You have a good grip," the Arrow commented as he dodged closer to the shooter.

Mike suddenly turned his gun on the cowering boy near the front of the room. "Get back!" he shouted. "I'll kill this guy - swear to God!"

The Arrow was poised to take another shot, but he hesitated.

"He's not bluffing," Gary said urgently. "He's a desperate man. He doesn't plan on walking out of here himself."

"Shut up!" Mike growled.

The Arrow backed up two steps. "How do you know that?" he asked.

"Never mind how - I just know."

"You're not a regular guidance counselor, are you?" Mike's tone was dry. To the Arrow, he said, "Come on, back it up, Hood."

The Arrow took two more steps back and lowered his bow, but he didn't take the arrow off the string.

There was a knock on the door then. Mike kept his gun aimed at the frightened boy. "Knock knock, who's there?" he said.

"This is the Starling City Police," a voice called. "I'm officer Blakeley. Can you tell me your name?"

Mike smiled slightly. "Like I said... time for the real fun to start.

* * *

 _Yup; evil cliffhanger. Anyone reading? Leave a comment._


	4. The Line of Fire

_Finally have a follower! Readership is picking up! (I'm being sarcastic. I've heard that crossovers don't get any readers, but my Sherlock/Torchwood crossover was very popular for a while there. I don't know why this one doesn't get much attention. *shrug*) Anyway, here we get some action and then start to wrap up the situation.  
_

* * *

Gary barely heard the exchange between Mike and the police. He was busy working the paper out of his jacket. He took a chance when Mike was particularly distracted and laid the paper on the desk in front of him where it wouldn't be easily spotted. What he saw was unnerving.

 **Police Sniper Takes Out Civilian**

 _...Johansen ordered a hostage to cross the room, taking snipers by surprise. Police expected Johansen to keep the hostages immobile to maintain order_ — _an error with deadly consequences for college junior John McAlister..._

The verbal exchange between police and shooter had come to a pause, and Gary spoke up. "Listen, Mike? I've been in a hostage situation before..."

"So, what?"

"So, if you wanna live long enough to accomplish what you came here to do, you need to listen to me. You've gotta work with the cops or they're gonna take you out when you've hardly gotten started, you understand?"

"How are they gonna do that?" Mike demanded. "They try anything, I kill somebody. Simple as that."

"Sure, I know, but I know how these things work. Once they establish contact, they start moving snipers into position. With this many lives at stake, they're gonna take the first decent shot they get at you."

"So, I'll stay away from the windows."

"You can negotiate with them. That's what they want. They want to get you talking—that's how they do things. So, you give them something they want and you get them to take the snipers away."

Mike rested his gun's barrel against the temple of the shaking boy near the front of the room and looked up at the vigilante. "What do you think, Mister Hood? Think he's right? Or think he's full of bull?"

"He's making sense," the Arrow answered. "But I don't know why he'd want to help you."

"My thoughts exactly."

Gary looked down at the paper again.

 **Starling Tech Shooter Killed by Vigilante - One Victim Dead; Two Wounded.**

 _We've got the two wounded,_ Gary thought frantically. _Who's the dead one?_ He looked up just in time to see Mike grab the frightened boy by the upper arm.

"Get up," Mike told him.

The boy made a frightened sound. He seemed frozen in place.

"Get up!"

Remembering the name from the previous story and taking a leap of faith, Gary said, "John?"

The boy lifted his head. "Y-yeah?"

"It's gonna be okay, John. You can stand up."

"I... I can't move."

"Oh, you can't move?" Mike asked scornfully. "No, if I shoot you, _then_ you won't be able to move."

"He's just scared," Gary said. "Give him a second, will ya? John, just hold onto your desk and move one foot at a time. You can do it, buddy."

He saw John's hands move slowly to the sides of his desk. Then his left leg moved... then his right. Then he was pulling himself upright with a little unsympathetic help from Mike.

"There ya go," Mike said. "Now come on. Come with me."

As Mike moved John toward the door, Gary looked down at the paper again.

 **Vigilante Killed Protecting Queen Heiress**

 _What the heck?_ Gary thought. _How's a queen get mixed up in this?_

Mike had John by the door now. "Hey, officer!" he shouted. "I've got a friend here with me by the door so I have some company talking to you. Say something, John."

"Uh... I'm here," John said feebly.

"Good boy."

"Mike," the officer outside called back, "my name is Officer Lance. Quentin's my first name, if that's better."

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want," Mike retorted.

"Fair enough. What is it you want, Mike?"

"I want your snipers outta here, that's what! Don't think I don't know they're there. In a minute I'm gonna take another friend over to the window to have a look, and there better be no one out there, you hear me? I see so much as something shiny I don't like, I'm gonna kill someone!"

"I hear you, Mike. We're ordering the snipers to fall back. There's no need to hurt anyone. But since I'm doing that for you, I need you to do something for me. That's how this works."

"So I've been told."

"We want you to let those hostages go, Mike. They're innocent people."

"Ha! You think I'm gonna give you all my bargaining chips, just like that?"

"Look, is anyone hurt? At least give us the wounded."

Mike looked around the room a moment before staring at Dr. Cleveland. Finally, he said, "I'll give you one wounded hostage. Just one."

"Okay, I'll take it."

"I'll send him out when you tell me the snipers are gone. If you lied though, I'm killing two."

"We're not lying to you, Mike. The snipers are pulling back right now."

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what, Mike?"

"Saying my name. You keep saying my name because you think it'll calm me down. You think it'll make me feel like you care. Well, I don't give a damn about anyone here, so just cut the crap."

"I understand."

"Sure."

In the quiet that followed, Gary looked over at the injured girl. She was leaning heavily on her desk, clutching her arm. Her wound had bled through the sweater given to her by the girl in the next desk. The other girl patted her shoulder now and then.

"Okay, the snipers are gone," Lance's voice said from outside. "Time to keep up your end of the bargain."

"Open the door," Mike told John. "Slow."

John did as he was told.

"Now, go on out."

Something was wrong... _Mike said he would release an_ injured _hostage..._

Mike fired his gun and one of the girls screamed. John fell forward through the doorway.

"There's your wounded hostage," Mike said, grabbing the door handle and pulling it shut quickly. He turned around as the Arrow was drawing his bow again. He stepped between desks and grabbed a handful of the comforting girl's hair, pressing his gun to her head. "Don't even think about it," he said fiercely.

Immediately, the Arrow faltered.

"How about you just put that bow down on the desk?"

The vigilante replaced his arrow in its quiver and laid his bow across the teacher's desk.

"That's better. Stand up," Mike told the girl.

To her credit, the girl managed to comply right away, though Gary could see she was shaking a little. She let Mike walk her back to the door.

"We're going to the window now, Lance. Me and the class Queen. Remember what I said—if there's any sign of those snipers, two hostages are gonna die."

 _Queen... is she the one the paper was talking about?_

Gary watched Mike forcing the girl across the room. He saw the Arrow's eyes following them. He seemed to be breathing deeper, his body tense. His hand had begun to move, just slightly, toward his bow on the desk while the other moved toward his quiver...

"Don't," Gary told him pointedly.

Mike looked back suspiciously as the Arrow's arms returned to his sides. "What? What's going on?"

Gary cleared his throat. "I was just advising our friend here not to try anything foolish," Gary said, nodding at the Arrow.

"Good advice. Mister Arrow, I think you need to go sit at the back of the class with Gary there. Maybe he can keep you out of trouble. Move!"

Reluctantly, the Arrow abandoned his bow and took the desk to Gary's right. His clenched fists told Gary how frustrated he was.

"He'd have killed you," Gary whispered, not looking at him.

"Better me than her," the Arrow whispered back.

Mike was at the window now, the furthest he had been from Gary since the ordeal began. He kept the girl between himself and the outside world, looking around for anything that might be obstructing his view of a sniper.

"Listen, I don't know what good it will do," Gary said, pulling the photo from his pocket, "but this is someone important to this guy. Might be family, but I think it's an ex-girlfriend. Can we do anything with that?"

The Arrow immediately pulled out a cell phone and snapped a picture of the photo. He entered something into his phone and then put it away again. "If we can, we'll know soon."

Gary put the picture away and looked down at the paper.

 **Hostage Situation Ends in Suicide**

He skimmed the story for the important information. _Four wounded... two dead, including Johansen. Names... I need names._ Two more people were going to be shot before Mike turned the gun on himself.

"I might be able to tranquilize him," the Arrow said, barely loud enough for Gary to hear. "If I had a diversion."

The headline became blurry, but it didn't change. "Uh... let's keep that as a backup plan," Gary said.

"Backup to what?"

"The picture."

"Gary," Mike said, walking with his prisoner back to the front of the room, "why don't you share your thoughts with the whole class?"

Gary cleared his throat. "Oh, uh... you know, I was just... just pointing out how the man with the gun is in charge and we need to let you do what you wanna do... let things run their course."

"Really."

Mike patted the desk and the girl sat on it, looking down at Dr. Cleveland. The teacher seemed almost too weak to sit up anymore. Mike rested his gun on the girl's shoulder, muzzle pointed toward her head.

"So, here's how it's gonna work," Mike said. "We're gonna shoot somebody say... every ten minutes or so. I'm sick to death of everything, and I just don't care anymore. But I'm gonna leave one of you alive. Because I gotta have a surviving eyewitness, right?"

"Two would be better—to corroborate the story," the Arrow pointed out.

"Mm... yeah, I suppose so. So, I leave two of you alive. Now, it can't be that guy," Mike said, pointing with his free hand at the Arrow, "because he wasn't here from the beginning. But he can't be the first to die, either. It should be a student. It's more dramatic that way." He looked around the room, taking in the responses.

The Arrow held his phone between the desks where Gary could see, but Mike couldn't. On the screen was a text message:

 _Junior Shelly Miles. Attempting to contact._

So, the girl in the photo was another student. Gary wondered who the Arrow's contact was, and prayed that it was someone competent.

"But beyond that, I don't know," Mike went on. "How should I decide who goes first?"

"Mike?" Lance's voice came from outside.

"Shut up, I'm busy!" Mike retorted.

"I just want to talk to you."

"I'll talk to you when I'm good and ready, now shut it." Looking around the classroom again, Mike went on. "Blake, you were always a big jerk," he commented. "You'd always blurt out the obvious stuff to make yourself look smart, but we all know you're just average."

The boy Mike directed this at looked like he couldn't decide whether or not to answer. His jaw worked and his eyes shifted uneasily.

"Then there's Amelia... I know you've got a crush on Doctor Cleveland... don't worry, I think it's cute. But everybody thinks you're cute, and just a tiny bit annoying..." he held up his fingers for emphasis. "If you die first, that would make quite a stir, don't you think?"

"Please, Mike," Amelia said in a timid voice, "I... I don't want to die."

"Very few people do... Then again, we have Miss Queen, here." He looked at the girl sitting on the desk and she returned his gaze coldly. "What's a girl like you gotta take a random physics class for, anyway? You're pretty, you're locally famous... you could just marry some rich guy and be set for life."

"That's what _you_ should have done," the girl told him. "You don't have my ambition."

Mike laughed. "Well, well. Thea Queen, ladies and gentlemen. Night club owner, trend-setter and sharp-tongued wit."

"Who is all this drama for?" Gary asked. "You're trying to cause a sensation, but whose attention are you really after?"

Mike hopped up on the desk beside Thea. "Eh, lots of people. Teachers, parents... scientists. Journalists. You know, everybody. If I want this story to go global, I've gotta kill a lot of people though, like I said. Anyone got an idea how we can decide who dies first? Annnnnybody?"

Most of the students were looking at their desks or the floor. Gary stared at the newspaper, but the headline was still blurry.

"Come on, guys—class participation! You've got about a one-in-nine chance of living through this. Don't you want to help improve your odds a little? Don't you even want to have a say in how you're selected?"

"We could... draw names out of a hat," someone suggested.

"Great idea, Phil! Oh, wait... do you see any hats in here? I mean, we got a hood, but I don't really wanna know who the Arrow is just yet. It would be like opening presents before eating birthday cake... you gotta do things in order.

"How about a volunteer? Volunteering's always a nice thing to do." Mike chuckled. "Tell you what, I like a good sense of humor. You make me laugh, you get immunity for this round. Come on... somebody's got a wisecrack they just can't stop thinking about... go ahead and say it and you're safe this time."

 _Who would joke at a time like this?_ Gary wondered. But to his surprise, Mike was right, and a moment later a girl in the middle of the class broke the silence.

"I volunteer as tribute!" the girl exclaimed.

Mike laughed loudly, and Gary saw fleeting smiles cross the faces of a few of the nervous students. He wondered what on earth the girl was referencing.

"Nice, Sally," Mike said. "You're safe. Anyone else? How 'bout you, Mister Gary-the-guidance-counselor?"

"I'm not playing your game," Gary said flatly.

"You're not really a guidance counselor, are you?"

"No."

"That's very interesting. Why don't you tell the class a bit about yourself. And be sure to cover your hobby of lying to college students—I'm really interested in that part."

"Well, that—that's a long story," Gary said, wondering how he could stall.

"We've got plenty of time... it might extend your life a bit."

Gary mustered a little nerve. "Sorry, but my dad always taught me not to negotiate with terrorists."

Mike cracked a smile. "Well, it's not a laugh, but I won't short-list you. Anyone else?"

 _Come on, change,_ Gary thought at the paper. _Give me something to work with._

"Why was Heisenberg bad in bed?" asked a front-row student.

"Oh, this is predictable, but I think it's gonna be good," said Mike. "Go ahead, I give up."

"When he got the momentum, he couldn't find the position, and when he got the position, he couldn't work up the momentum."

Mike nodded appreciatively. "Just as I thought: predictable, but good. You pass. Anyone else?"

"This is officer Lance," the police negotiator tried again. "How are things going in there?"

"Great," Mike called back. "We're having fun, aren't we, guys?" He didn't seem bothered when no one answered.

"Listen, we got John and you got the snipers gone. That was good. Now I've given you some time—can you tell me what you want now?"

Mike stared at the door for a moment. "Pick a number between one and eighteen," he said.

The room went completely silent.

"A number?"

"Yeah, I'm trying to decide something. Pick a number."

"Between one and eighteen?"

"That's right."

"And if I do that for you?"

"I'll give you Doctor Cleveland. He's hurt pretty bad. Ought to get some help soon."

The headline was solid again.

"All right—how about five?"

Mike looked at the desks and counted. "Hm. With John gone, five falls on Ben," he said, looking at the boy he had just said was safe. "Five's no good," he called to Lance. "Pick another one."

"Don't do it, officer!" Gary shouted. "As soon as you pick a number he's going to count off students and shoot somebody."

Mike pointed his gun at Gary again and he ducked, but no shot came. "What the hell is wrong with you, man? You want to ruin all the fun?"

"You think this is a game?" Gary asked shakily, sitting up again. "You think Shelly would like this game?"

"What?" Mike stared at Gary vacantly, as if completely baffled by the question.

"What if she were here right now?" Gary persisted, hoping his words wouldn't prompt Mike to fire. "If she were in this class, would you still have gone through with this?"

Mike seemed to tremble with anger, and Gary figured it wouldn't seem off to glance downward to avoid his gaze... and to look at the paper.

 **Mystery Man Killed by School Shooter**

 _...When Johansen's attention was directed elsewhere, Thea Queen, who was closest to him at the time, seized the opportunity to attempt to disarm her classmate. The gun went off, giving a wound which would eventually prove fatal to a man authorities have been unable to positively identify..._

Gary looked up at the girl, still sitting on the desk. She was eying Johansen apprehensively. "Thea," Gary said quickly.

"Hm?" Thea looked back at him, surprised.

"Just stay cool there, Thea. Everything's gonna be okay."

"Okay..." Thea seemed to relax a little.

"What's your name?" Mike asked Gary. "Not that it'll matter soon, but I wanna know. Is it really Gary?"

"Gary Hobson."

"Are you part of school staff?"

"No, I'm not."

"Then why did you come here? And how do you know about me? And about Shelly?"

Gary licked his lips. _Stay calm._ "Getting a little off-track, aren't you? This is all about you and _your_ reasons, not me and mine. Is Shelly the reason you're doing this?"

"Don't be stupid. Don't talk about stuff you don't understand."

"This is physics class, right?" the Arrow pointed out. "It's designed for talking about stuff we don't understand."

"Wise-ass," Mike muttered. Then he smirked. "Just for that, you get to live for now."

"See, I don't think Shelly ever meant to do anything that would upset you," Gary tried again.

"You shut the hell up!" Mike shouted. He moved away from Thea and marched toward Gary. "Shut up about Shelly, or I'll shoot you right now, got it?"

"Di-didn't you say you wouldn't short-list me?"

"I'll make an exception."

Gary felt a strong grip on his arm and the cold metal of the gun's barrel at his temple. Then he heard a female voice at the door.

"Mike?"

Gary froze, and Mike seemed to do the same.

"Mike, it's me," the voice said. "It's Shelly."

The Arrow's contact had come through. Gary looked down at the paper. Mike, in his fury, apparently hadn't noticed it.

 **No Fatalities: School Shooting Resolved Peacefully**

For some reason Gary's body responded to the relief by beginning to tremble. He had a gun to his head, but it was going to be okay. _Thank you,_ he thought for the thousandth time, and for the thousandth time wondered if it was really God handling these things. After all, if it was God, why didn't he just fix the problems himself instead of asking some ordinary guy to do it for him?

* * *

 _Well, that's enough excitement for one installment. Now, I know I have 1 follow and favorite... so why no feedback? Do people just not leave comments anymore? Has it gone out of style? Just asking._


	5. The Point

_The end of the hostage situation, the beginning of the soap opera-I mean the_ _social interaction..._

* * *

"You're the last person I wanna talk to," Mike called toward the door.

"That's my line," Shelly snapped in return. "It hasn't exactly been easy for me to avoid you, you know. But I think I'm doing a good job and then I find out you're holding our classmates _hostage?!_ With a gun. That you've _shot_ people."

"Thought you had me all figured out, didn't you?" Mike tugged Gary's arm. "Get up."

"Frankly, no."

Gary got shakily to his feet and walked toward the door with Mike still holding the gun to his head.

Shelly went on. "I never did quite get you, but I wanted to."

"I suppose now you're gonna say you want another chance," Mike scoffed. "Then when I come out with my little heart full of hope, the police drag me away, right?"

"Of course not. We're both too smart for that. And we both know it wasn't working."

Mike pushed Gary against the wall beside the door. He rested his wrist on Gary's shoulder to support the weight of his gun. "Yeah, and why was that?"

"Because we're too much alike and our goals are too different."

"That's not what you said when you broke up with me."

"I don't even remember what I said! But I don't want you to think I was mad at you, or that I thought you weren't good enough for me. Hell, I even thought... maybe, down the road, if our paths crossed again, we might have a shot. Maybe we'd be ready for each other then. But after this? Those are my classmates in there, too. You're hurting my friends. And for what?"

"I'm leaving my mark here. They'll make movies about me, and all my inventions will get patented posthumously. I'll be famous forever. Most people aren't famous in their own lifetime anyway... I'm just speeding up the process."

"You're an idiot, Mike Johansen!" Shelly's voice had been gentle, but it was now laced with contempt. "You think this will be the crowning achievement of your life, that you'll be celebrated forever... But you're completely missing the point! You haven't _lived_ at all! You're throwing out everything that makes life worth-while. Your friends and family will spit on your grave. Sure, you'll be famous. A famous villain! It's too late for there to be anything between us, but it's not too late for you to have a good life. So for god's sake, come out of there before you destroy your only chance."

Gary hardly dared to breathe. He could see that Mike looked much less confident now, but he still had his gun directed at Gary's head.

Finally, Mike said, "You're wrong - it is too late."

"No, it isn't." Shelly's voice was soft again. "Let everyone go and cooperate with the police. Sure, you're in trouble, but it's not over for you."

"She's right," Gary said quietly. "You haven't killed anyone. And your family wants you back safe. I know he has trouble showing it, but you mean the world to your dad. You really do. This isn't going to change that. He'll want to help you; you'll see."

The conflict was evident on Mike's face now: go on with his plan, or trust these people who were saying things could be okay again?

Dr. Cleveland had sagged against his desk until his shoulders nearly reached the floor, but somehow he was still lucid enough to speak. "You have a gifted mind, Mike," he said breathily. "You've done some... impressive things already. But in a few years you might do so much more. Don't throw it away."

Thea slipped off the desk and did her best to pull the teacher into a more comfortable position, speaking to him too quietly for Gary to hear what she said.

"I know you feel like no one understands you," Gary said, flinching slightly when Mike turned his attention back to him with a little twitch of his gun hand. "But you've got so many people rooting for you. They want to understand. You keep working hard and one day they will. They're good people; just... just give 'em a chance. Give us all another chance. Please."

Mike's gaze dropped and his chest rose and fell quickly.

"It's okay," Gary said softly. "Come on, Mike. Will you let me have the gun?"

He could see tears forming in Mike's eyes. The boy took a few more deep breaths and then closed his eyes.

"Easy..." Gary reached up slowly and put his hand on Mike's wrist. When nothing happened, he reached further and gently moved Mike's hand back and down until the gun was low between them. Then he took it easily, as if they were friends sharing a toy. "There you go."

Gary felt the gun leave his hand and he saw that somehow the vigilante had come up beside them noiselessly. He left the way he had come - with no snipers outside, he was safe to go back out the window and disappear.

Mike was wilting and looked in danger of falling over. Gary wrapped an arm around him and pulled him into a loose hug. "Officer Lance?" he called.

"Yes," the policeman answered.

"My name's Gary. Mike gave me the gun and it's out of his reach now. We've got some hurt people, but we're all gonna be okay."

"Is it safe to come in?"

"We're coming out. Tell your men not to shoot."

Gary heard the instructions being given to stay back and hold fire. Then Lance addressed him again. "All right; come out when you're ready, Gary."

"It's gonna be fine," Gary told Mike, still holding onto him.

"Who the hell are you?" Mike asked hoarsely.

"Me? Aw, I'm no one... I'm just..." Gary turned the door handle and stepped carefully to the side, pulling Mike with him. "Just someone with your best interests at heart. Come on. There you go."

They moved slowly through the half-open door, Gary being careful to shield Mike in case any of the 2015 police were trigger-happy.

"See, it's okay. He's not resisting. Everybody's gonna be okay."

An officer approached them and put a hand on Mike's shoulder. "I'll take him from here, son."

"Okay." Gary moved away from Mike slowly, keeping eye contact with him. "You'll be okay. Just do what they tell ya and cooperate as much as you can. I'll make sure your folks get the right side of the story."

"Thank you," Mike said, allowing his wrists to be cuffed behind him.

Two more officers came to walk Mike away. Gary suddenly seemed to lose control of his knees and started falling toward the floor. The first officer caught him by the arms and set him upright again.

"Careful there," the officer said, and Gary recognized his voice as the negotiator.

"Thank you, officer... I gotta say, I'm really grateful to you. You handled that pretty well. I mean, he was going to shoot half the class."

"Oh, I doubt that," Lance said in a reassuring tone. "You're the one who said not to pick a number, right? That was pretty gutsy."

"Well... I guess I figured if he was gonna shoot someone anyway, I might as well take a chance."

"Most people don't think like that. They don't value other people's lives as much as their own. You gonna be all right now?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Police had gone into the room behind them and were now leading students out. A stretcher soon arrived for Dr. Cleveland, and Thea came out with the injured girl. They had just sat on a bench with an EMT looking at the other girl's arm when a young man burst through the doors at the end of the hall.

"Thea?" the young man said in a concerned voice.

 _Boy friend,_ Gary figured.

He looked like he was in his late twenties. He was dressed in a suit and had a short growth of stubble.

 _Guess the rugged look never quite goes out of style._

"Thea... oh my god, are you okay?" the young man rushed to the bench and knelt in front of Thea.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Thea answered. She leaned forward and hugged her visitor.

"Listen," Lance said, regaining Gary's attention, "I've got things to see to, but I want to make sure someone gets your statement before you leave, and you should get your neck looked at. Looks like you've bled quite a bit there."

Gary had all but forgotten his wound. He put his hand over it again. "Oh, yeah... I will. Thanks."

"I tried to get up here earlier but the bastards wouldn't let me in," the young man was telling Thea.

Thea scoffed. "Oh, and what would you have done? Threatened to sue him? Written him a check?"

"Come on, I was really scared." He put his hand under her chin and looked at her earnestly. "You're all I've got, Speedy."

That surprised Gary. The suit looked expensive. Weren't rich people supposed to be shallow? Maybe the shock of the situation had gotten him extra emotional. He might as well propose on the spot.

"I told you that class was a dumb idea," the guy added, half joking.

"Psh, not because you thought crazed gunmen were in the class. Anyway, no one was killed, thank God. And thanks to the vigilante... and this guy," she added, nodding in Gary's direction.

Gary looked away quickly.

"Who's he?"

"No idea. Doctor Cleveland said he was just visiting the class."

"Hey, Mister."

Gary looked furtively back toward the pair. "Who, me?"

"Yeah. You helped keep my sister from getting hurt. I want to thank you."

 _Sister. Ahhh._ It made a little more sense now. He did look too old for her. "Hey, that's okay. I was just... just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"Did you say the vigilante was involved?" someone asked Thea.

"Yeah... he came in a little while after Mike got the gun out. After the shooting started."

"What was he doing there?"

"I don't know... I figured he heard about it and came to help."

"And did he help?"

"Yes, he did," Gary chimed in. "As a matter of fact, it was his idea to get Shelly Miles over here to talk to Mike."

"How did he know about her?"

Gary shrugged. "Search me."

An EMT urged Gary toward the bench where the injured girl had been treated and the Queen siblings were now standing.

"Say, uh... Gary, wasn't it?" Officer Lance asked.

"Yes, sir." Gary gingerly took his hand away from his neck so the EMT could examine it.

"You said Mike gave you the gun, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"So, where is it?"

"Oh, the vigilante took it."

"And where did he go?"

"Out the window."

"Seriously?"

"He did," Thea confirmed.

"Of course, he did," Lance muttered. "Okay... thanks."

"I'm going to put a little antiseptic on this," the EMT told Gary.

"Okay," Gary said, not grateful for the warning. He grimaced when the "little" antiseptic gave his wound a big sting.

"And now we'll put a butterfly bandage on it until we can get you to the ER for stitches."

"Oh, I don't think I need to go to the ER," Gary said. "I'll be fine."

"We can't make you go, but I highly recommend it."

"Better do as he says," the elder Queen put in. "It's easy to get an infection if you don't take care of it right."

"Thanks, but... I just got into town, and I can't afford to..." Gary trailed off. "Oh, no..."

"What's wrong?" asked Thea.

"It's just... not my day."

"I don't think today is anybody's day."

"No, I mean... you wouldn't understand. It's just _really_ not my day."

"What is it?" asked the brother.

"Well, I just got into Starling City this morning, and I was in such a rush I completely forgot about my wingside luggage... I don't travel much, see, so I'm not used to having bags to look after..."

"You need a ride to the airport?"

"Um..."

"It's no trouble. I've got a car outside. Come on. You too, Speedy. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"They have Mike in custody," Thea griped. "What's he gonna do, shoot me with his finger from inside a squad car?"

"That's enough smart remarks from you, young lady. Anyway, looks like you won't be in class for a while with your teacher in bad shape like that."

"I guess not. Poor Doctor Cleveland. I hope he's okay."

"He's be fine," Gary assured her, following the Queens toward the exit. "It looked worse than it is. My guess: he'll be in ICU overnight and then he'll stabilize and make a full recovery."

"You sound pretty confident."

"I have a sense about these things."

"Are you a doctor?" the brother asked.

"No... but I'm good friends with a doctor," Gary invented, deciding it would be a useful excuse to have in case of a later medical emergency.

"So, what _were_ you doing at the school today?" Thea asked as they exited the building and headed for a sleek black car complete with chauffeur.

"Well..." Gary tried to think of a logical explanation. Now that the danger was over he wanted to concentrate on getting home. He saw Thea heading for the back of the car, so he hurried forward and opened the door for her.

"Hold on, Speedy," Thea's brother said. "You take shotgun."

"How come?" she asked.

"Because I don't want our guest having to sit up next to Diggle..."

"Thanks a lot," said the driver.

"...and I'd rather be in the back myself..."

"So, you just get to have your way?" Thea demanded. "You're so selfish, Ollie."

 _Ollie. Finally, someone said his name._ Gary wondered if formal introductions were going out of style in 2015. They made things so much easier; he hoped the siblings' oversight was due to the stress of the day's events.

"Humor me," Ollie said.

"Fine. But it's not fair."

Gary opened the front door for Thea and she gave him a smile as she got into the passenger seat.

Ollie shot Gary an apologetic look as he climbed into the back and moved over to make room. "Sorry about that... wish I could say we're not usually like this."

Thea snorted.

"Oh, that's okay," said Gary. _It doesn't matter. Things can be as weird as they want. I just want to get my stuff and go home._

* * *

 _So, this is the fifth chapter you've been able to enjoy in this story. When do I get to enjoy a review?_


	6. The Reporter

_FINALLY! A review! More, please?_

 _BTW did you notice the first 5 chapter titles had archery connotations? ^^ Here's chapter 6.  
_

* * *

Quick-change in the car... it wasn't the first time, and it probably wouldn't be the last.

"Everyone okay up there?" Dig asked.

"Sure, now that I've got this." Ollie held up the gun for a moment before going back to his hurried changing.

"That's a crazy-looking gun."

"It's kinda cool, actually, as guns go. It's got the nostalgia of the six-shot revolver but it has extra magazines... it can probably fire twenty-four rounds in... oh, fifteen seconds or so. Then you have to reload, but by then who's left standing? Get rid of it, will ya?"

"I'll put it in the trunk until we can get back to HQ."

Ollie pulled on his blazer. "Okay, go."

Dig pulled the car around to the front of the building where police were beginning to allow people to filter inside. Ollie flung his door open and charged toward the police line.

"My sister's in there - let me through," he said to the nearest uniform.

"Take it easy, Mister Queen," the policeman told him. "We're letting EMS in first; family can go in soon."

Ollie pointed at another man who was ducking around people to get inside. "What about him? Is he EMS?"

The policeman grumbled something and then said, "Look, all we can do is the best we can, okay? Just stay back and you'll get to go in soon."

"Bullshit."

"You don't want to get in the way in there, do you? You need to let these people do their jobs."

Ollie pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his pocket. "I know you do the best you can," he said, casually holding the bill where the policeman could see it, "but people do get through sometimes..."

"Mister Queen, I'm going to pretend I didn't see that, but only because I know you're worried about your sister."

The policeman's radio crackled. "This is Lance. The suspect is secure, medical response is inside - okay to let family in. Repeat: let family members inside."

As the officer stepped back, Ollie pushed past him without wasting any more words.

Thea didn't seem much worse for wear, but Ollie made a fuss over her anyway. He avoided looking at Gary. He didn't want to give any sign of recognition before they "met" for the first time.

"No one was killed, thank God," Thea said. "And thanks to the vigilante... and this guy," she added, nodding in Gary's direction.

Gary looked away when Ollie looked up. "Who's he?"

"No idea. Doctor Cleveland said he was just visiting the class."

 _Okay, now we can meet._ "Hey, Mister."

Gary looked furtively back toward them. "Who, me?"

 _Wow, he's a terrible faker._ "Yeah. You helped keep my sister from getting hurt. I want to thank you."

"Hey, that's okay. I was just... just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

 _Modest. Or covering something._

"Did you say the vigilante was involved?" someone asked Thea.

"Yeah... he came in a little while after Mike got the gun out. After the shooting started."

"What was he doing there?"

"I don't know... I figured he heard about it and came to help."

"And did he help?"

"Yes, he did," Gary chimed in. "As a matter of fact, it was his idea to get Shelly Miles over here to talk to Mike."

"How did he know about her?"

Gary shrugged. "Search me."

An EMT urged Gary toward the bench where the Queen siblings were standing, and Quentin Lance came over to talk to him. Ollie listened in, but he didn't learn anything new, except that Gary was a polite individual.

When Lance was done, the EMT sterilized Gary's wound. "And now we'll put a butterfly bandage on it until we can get you to the ER for stitches."

"Oh, I don't think I need to go to the ER," Gary said. "I'll be fine."

"We can't make you go, but I highly recommend it."

"Better do as he says," Ollie put in. "It's easy to get an infection if you don't take care of it right." _I should know..._

"Thanks, but... I just got into town, and I can't afford to..." Gary trailed off. "Oh, no..."

"What's wrong?" asked Thea.

Gary explained that he had left his luggage at the airport when he arrived in town.

"You need a ride to the airport?" Ollie offered. Oliver Queen might not know or care much about what Gary had been doing at the school that day, but the Arrow was definitely taking an interest.

"Um..." Gary looked uncertain.

"It's no trouble. I've got a car outside. Come on. You too, Speedy. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"They have Mike in custody," Thea griped. "What's he gonna do, shoot me with his finger from inside a squad car?"

"That's enough smart remarks from you, young lady. Anyway, looks like you won't be in class for a while with your teacher in bad shape like that." Ollie led the way toward the exit.

"I guess not. Poor Doctor Cleveland. I hope he's okay."

"He's be fine," Gary assured her, following close behind them. "It looked worse than it is. My guess: he'll be in ICU overnight and then he'll stabilize and make a full recovery."

"You sound pretty confident."

"I have a sense about these things."

"Are you a doctor?" Ollie asked.

"No... but I'm good friends with a doctor," Gary said.

 _Such a bad liar. What's this guy's deal?_

"So, what _were_ you doing at the school today?" Thea asked as they exited the building and headed for the car.

"Well..." As Thea headed for the back of the car, Gary hurried forward and opened the door for her.

"Hold on, Speedy," Ollie said. "You take shotgun." _No way am I sitting up front where I can't see this guy's face._

"How come?" she asked.

"Because I don't want our guest having to sit up next to Diggle..."

"Thanks a lot," said Dig.

"...and I'd rather be in the back myself..."

"So, you just get to have your way?" Thea demanded. "You're so selfish, Ollie."

"Humor me."

"Fine. But it's not fair."

Ollie was a little surprised she gave in so easily. Gary opened the front door for her and she smiled at him as she got into the passenger seat.

 _Don't you get a crush, Thea Queen. He's too old for you, and we know nothing about him._

Ollie shot Gary an apologetic look as he climbed into the back and moved over to make room. "Sorry about that... wish I could say we're not usually like this."

Thea snorted.

Gary merely smiled in answer - a weak, humorless smile.

"To the airport, Dig."

"You flying today, Mister Queen?" Dig asked, formal for the sake of Thea and Gary.

"Nope. Going to pick up Mister... uh..."

"Hobson," Gary supplied.

"Mister Hobson's luggage." Ollie turned to Gary. "Can we drop you at a hotel after, or...?"

"Um, yeah. That would be good."

Dig glanced in the rear-view mirror and then over at Thea. "You two look okay, considering you were just held hostage by a gunman."

Thea giggled. "I don't think it's really hit me yet. I'll probably get hysterical later on. Like in the middle of the night I'll have a breakdown." She looked back at Ollie. "Gary was great though... he was super chill the whole time."

"Really?" Ollie asked, setting his features to "Impressed."

"You said you'd been a hostage before, right?" Thea asked Gary. "Are you like a secret security guard or something?"

Gary laughed and shook his head. "No, nothing like that."

"So... what is it, then?"

"Well, uh... I don't know what Starling City is like yet, but Chicago is... it's kinda rough. You never know what's gonna happen."

"But why were you at Starling Tech?"

Ollie saw that Gary looked uncomfortable and shifty... like he was working up a lie. "Well, I'm actually a reporter... investigative journalist..." Gary seemed to suddenly relax. "You know, it's a long story, and I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you."

"That's the best kind of story," Thea said enthusiastically.

"Eh... I'd rather not get into it. I just want to get my stuff and go someplace where I can relax. What time is it, anyway?"

"About three forty-five," Ollie said after a glance at his watch. He decided to try a more subtle attempt to get information. "You know, you look kind of familiar to me... Hobson. I feel like I knew a Hobson."

"Well, maybe you did... it's not really a rare name."

"You've never been to Starling before?"

"Nope. First time."

"It must have been at school, then," Ollie concluded. "Give me some time; I'll figure it out."

Gary just laughed nervously. He didn't try to dissuade Ollie from the idea that they had met before.

The airport was a drag, as airports generally are. After getting the run-around for more than half an hour, Gary had to settle for the assurance that his luggage would be delivered to him as soon as it was located.

Ollie gave Gary's shoulder a pat to buck him up. "Have them send it to the Victoria," he told the clerk behind the counter. "Mister Hobson will be staying there."

"I will?" said Gary. "Where's the Victoria?"

"Come on." Ollie got out his phone and called Dig. "We're done here; we're on our way out. We'll drop Gary off at the Victoria."

"You're in luck," Thea told Gary. "It looks like Ollie's decided to be uncharacteristically helpful today."

"Hey, anything for an old classmate," Ollie muttered.

"Are you sure you went to school together?"

"I don't know where else I could have seen him." That much was true... he probably hadn't seen Gary anywhere outside school.

Ollie checked Gary into the comfortable hotel and gave him his business card "in case you need anything." Gary protested against Ollie's paying his rent, but he couldn't argue when Ollie asked if he had the means to pay for it himself.

"Well... when I get my luggage I should be able to pay you back," Gary said, looking at the floor.

"Don't be silly, man," Ollie said cheerfully. "It's just a hotel room. Call me when you get a chance, okay? I want to get together before you leave town."

"Sure."

Ollie thumped him on the back. "Okay, see you later."

"Bye."

"Bye, Gary," Thea said. "Take care of yourself."

"I will."

* * *

"So, he was nice," Ollie said, as he and Thea got back into the car.

"Yup. Hope he's okay. We should have invited him to dinner or something."

"Well, I gave him my card. Maybe he'll call."

"Yeah, maybe."

Ollie looked knowingly at his sister. "You like him, don't you?"

"Sure. Don't you? You said he was nice."

"Uh-huh."

"Shut up. Dig, can you take me to the Verdant?"

"Yes, ma'am," Dig replied with an exaggerated level of respect that they all knew was out of fondness.

"Starting work a little early, aren't you?" asked Ollie.

"Everyone will want to see that I'm okay. Roy won't stop texting me."

"You want me to manage for you, since you're bound to be swamped with well-wishers?"

"You trying to take the club back?"

"No, no... 'possession is nine tenths' and all that... I just want to help."

"Okay. Actually, I was thinking maybe we should share the club. It's still yours on paper anyway, and I'm doing okay but it's still kind of overwhelming sometimes. So... if you want back in, I'm open."

Ollie was surprised by the offer. "Partners?" he asked.

"Yeah. Family business. Like old times... only better." She chuckled.

Ollie smiled and put out his hand. "You got a deal."

The siblings shook hands.

"Congratulations," Dig put in.

"We should make an announcement tonight," Thea said. "Maybe dig out the deed and stuff and make it all official."

"Sure," Ollie agreed. He allowed himself to go on auto-pilot, inserting a comment here or there when necessary, while his mind turned back to Gary Hobson. Who was he, and why wouldn't he give a straight answer about why he'd been at the school?

* * *

At the Victoria, Gary tried to settle in. He tried calling the Johansens, but understandably their phone was busy. He finally left a message that he hoped would ease the parents' minds if he didn't get to speak to them before he left town. That taken care of, he began to wonder why Oliver Queen had thought he recognized him.

 _If we have ever met, he was just a kid at the time. Maybe it's a relative of mine... can't be my kid though, because even if I had a kid right away, it would still be born in the late 90's... too young to go to school with him._

Ollie must have been mistaken. Or maybe he was just a really nice guy that wanted to help out a stranger and he'd made up the connection so Gary would accept his generosity.

Gary sighed and collapsed on the plushy double bed. There was still an hour or two of daylight, but he felt like it was much later. His neck was throbbing a little, and he wished he'd asked the EMT for a painkiller. He remembered the moment he'd gotten the wound; it was just before the vigilante arrived. It was probably the Arrow's arrival that had kept Gary from going into shock. He'd been too distracted by the newcomer to lose focus.

Blinking sleepily, Gary wondered who the Arrow really was, and if their paths would ever cross again.

* * *

 _Oh yeah, buddy, they will if I have anything to say about it. xD Enjoy? Please let_ _me know!_


	7. Old Articles

_I decided to put HQ back under Verdant A. for convenience B. 'cause I like it there. *nods importantly*_

* * *

Ollie helped Thea get set up for the evening's business before going to the office to find the necessary paperwork to make them joint owners of the club. He'd never bothered to change anything - Tommy's name was still in the manager spot in the personnel file. He stared at the file a moment, trying to keep his thoughts from running back to his short-lived partnership with his friend. It didn't work.

 _He was so good at this. I knew the business, but he knew the people._ Ollie drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, blinking away unshed tears. Time to let go of something else. Move on before another loss could eat him up.

While the necessary documents were printing, Ollie answered Felicity's latest text. _I'm fine. Thea fine. evr1 prob ok._

Her reply came seconds later. _About time._ And then, _Luky Dig is betr comuncatr._

"Mm-hm," he hummed to himself. _I knew he'd let you know,_ he thought. He never let Felicity worry about him for too long.

A few minutes later he went to find Thea in the club. "Papers are on your desk," he shouted over the music. "I put red X's where you need to sign."

 _"Your_ desk," Thea shouted back. "No way am I handling the business end anymore. It's all yours."

Ollie grinned. "If you say so."

"I do!"

He gave her a salute and headed to the back again. He went down to the storage room and opened the secret door to let himself into the Arrow's headquarters.

"There you are!" exclaimed Felicity, getting up from her computer chair. "I oughta slug you. I've been down here for like four hours waiting for you to check in..."

"Give it a rest. You knew I was safe after three-thirty or so; you didn't have to stay here."

"Aw, where else am I gonna go?"

Ollie looked around. "Dig not down here?"

"Nope. He said he could use some time to himself, but he'll have his cell on in case you need him."

"Okay. Hey, could you do something for me?"

Felicity rolled her eyes. "That's all I ever do."

"There's a new guy in town. Name is Gary Hobson. He says he's from Chicago. He was in the classroom today."

"You want me to get a profile on him?"

"Please. He said he just got into town today, so I'm wondering how he got into trouble so fast. He claims to be an investigative reporter... also said he'd been held hostage before."

"Interesting," Felicity said genuinely, already back at her computer. "Gary... Hobson... Chicago... Here's something. There's a Gary Hobson that was involved in some disaster a few years back. This article says he warned some people out of a subway tunnel right before it collapsed. Oh, and this one says he owns a bar and grill called McGinty's. It's old, though. The article, I mean."

"How old?"

"Mm... eight years?"

Ollie frowned. "He seems a little young to have owned a bar that long. Is he the same guy from the other article?"

"I'm not sure. There aren't any pictures. Hang on, I'll keep looking."

Ollie waited while Felicity typed, clicked and scrolled. Finally, she said, "Here we go. This one's about a Gary Hobson saving a train from derailing. It says he warned the train dispatcher that 'a switchrail toe had become warped enough to catch the train's wheel flanges, which would have been disastrous for the 10:45 express and its some hundred-fifty passengers had the train not been delayed as per Hobson's timely warning. The track was repaired in under an hour and the railroad has offered Hobson a permanent travel card as thanks.' Is this your guy?" Felicity leaned back so Ollie could look at her screen.

Ollie leaned on the desk and looked hard at the picture. It was a little grainy, but there wasn't much room for doubt. "It certainly looks like him. When was this one posted?"

"Uh... well, it's a repost, actually. Someone's collection of news articles that interested them over the years... no telling when the original was posted, but this was put up about four years ago. I'll see if I can track down the original."

"Okay, thanks."

"So, if it's the same guy from the other article, he's some sort of... traveling guardian angel?"

"I don't know. It is kind of... weird. Think the Arrow might visit him tonight... just to make sure he's okay, you know?"

"And maybe get some info at the same time?"

"What gave you that idea?" Ollie nudged Felicity's shoulder. "Thanks for the research. Let me know if you find anything else."

"Will do."

* * *

Gary wasn't sure whether he'd been about to go to sleep or he'd been sleeping lightly for a few minutes when a voice brought him fully awake. At least, he was pretty sure he was awake - had the voice been part of a dream?

"Gary Hobson?"

Gary blinked at the alarm clock on the nightstand by his bed. It wasn't his alarm clock. It wasn't even his bed. Slowly, he began to remember where he was.

"Gary."

Gary rolled over and saw the silhouette of a hooded figure in front of his open window. He jumped. "Geez... what do you want?" He tried to gather his sleepy wits.

"I'm just checking to make sure you're all right. Sorry I didn't stick around earlier."

"You're that vigilante from the classroom shooting."

"That's me."

"Do you often sneak in people's windows at night?"

The Arrow took a moment to answer. "Define 'often.'"

"Oh, brother." Gary sat up. "Listen, I don't know what your deal is, but I'm fine... I just need some sleep."

The Arrow tossed something onto the bed.

"What's this?" Gary fumbled for the object and found that it was a sealed plastic bag.

"A clean bandage and some Tylenol."

"Oh. Well... thanks."

"Least I can do. You planning to be in Starling long?"

"Um... I really don't know. Why?"

"I like to keep tabs on people. I did some checking on you - you seem to be a sort of little-known hero back in Chicago. Saving people from getting buried alive, stopping trains from derailing, all while being an investigative reporter... how do you have time to run the bar?"

"Huh?"

"McGinty's. That is your bar, isn't it?"

This was dangerous. Gary had no idea what might have become of McGinty's in the 16 or 17 years since he left it. "Oh, well... well, you see, this is a common mistake people make."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, see, I have an uncle by the same name. He owned the bar before me, and he still helps me run it. And we look a lot alike, so people confuse us a lot."

"Really."

"Yeah. I-in fact, so much so that the last time I saw my grandpa in the hospital, he thought I was his son."

"I see."

"Uh-huh." Gary cleared his throat. "So, uh... what about you? What's your story?"

"The city was being run by corrupt people. I decided to change things."

"You couldn't do that by joining the city council or something?"

The Arrow laughed dryly. "You ever try making big changes that way?"

"Well... I've tried making small changes that way. It turned out okay."

"If you could see Starling just a year ago... see how rotten it was... you'd know it was far past that point."

"But not past saving?"

"No. It's better now... not exactly thriving and healthy, but it's getting there."

"And when it is healthy again, will you put away your mask and be a normal guy again?"

Another quiet laugh. "Some would argue that I was never that. But maybe I could be."

"Oh. Well, best of luck to you. You mind if I get some sleep now?"

"All right. You remember Officer Lance?"

"Yeah...?"

"If you should happen to need help, you can trust him."

"Okay..."

"Good night, Gary." The Arrow moved quickly and quietly to the window, leaned out of it and disappeared.

Gary blinked. It had looked like the vigilante had just dived out the window without anything to stop him from plummeting to his death, but there was not sound of a body hitting the pavement, no exclamations of shock from passersby, so he supposed he was safe one way or another.

"I dunno if he's actually a good guy or just a head case," Gary muttered as he applied the new bandage with the help of the bathroom mirror. He took some Tylenol and went back to bed.

* * *

 _"Meow." THUD  
_

Gary pulled a pillow over his head. "My alarm hasn't gone off yet," he moaned.

 _"Mrowww."_

"This better be good." He looked blearily at the clock. 7:30. "Seven-thirty?! You let me sleep in?"

He was in a hotel... _Oh, does this mean the green-hooded guy really came in here in the middle of the night?_ Yes, the window was still open.

Gary hurried to his door and opened it. There was the ginger cat that plagued his life, as well as the phantom newspaper. "Morning. What brings you to Starling City?"

The cat trotted into the room.

"Sure, make yourself at home." Gary stooped to pick up the paper. There was something strange about it. "Hey... this isn't the Sun-Times. It's the... Starling City Sentinel? Hey, what are you trying to pull?"

"Mrow."

"Well, I don't think this is funny. I live in Chicago. Chicago, you understand? Chicago in the '90s!"

The cat began to purr.

"Don't give me that. I never asked for this to begin with. Starling can deal with its own problems - I wanna go home!"

"Mew."

"Don't get cute." Gary grudgingly began to skim the headlines. "Fender-bender... no one's even badly hurt. Okay, here's a robbery... tries to take a kid hostage, gets shot by security guard... That's at nine-fifteen." Gary glanced at the clock and then at the cat. "Do I have time for breakfast?"

"Ow."

"Fine, I won't risk it. But I haven't eaten since room service brought me a bowl of soup last night, I'll have you know."

"Meow."

"Shut up."

Gary stopped at the front desk long enough to let the clerk know he would be staying another night and ask him to call a taxi. Then he was off to a jewelry store to find a Mr. Arthur Matson and somehow dissuade him from staging a holdup.

Suddenly, he remembered the Arrow's words from the night before. If he needed help, he could trust Officer Lance. _Eh, he'd just think I was cracking up under the strain from yesterday. Probably wouldn't be any help. I've done this 99% solo up until now; no need to try changing things up._

* * *

St John's Jewelry was a privately owned business that had seen good success over the years. In spite of Starling City's high crime rate, the store had suffered very little loss, thanks to its high-level security system and well-trained staff. The average crook had no idea what they were up against when they walked into St John's, but they never forgot how quickly their plans were thwarted.

Arthur Matson didn't know what he was up against either, but he had a gun, a half-baked plan, and a lot of debts to pay off. In a dim alley behind the store, oblivious to the security camera above him, Matson pulled a stocking cap over his face and a hood up over his head. He took a deep breath and ran toward the front of the store.

Gary had been waiting around out front for some time... long enough that a clerk came out to tactfully ask him if he needed help. He knew they didn't like him loitering there, so he said, "I'm waiting for a friend of mine... he's supposed to help me pick out an engagement ring, and he's running late."

"Your guy friend is helping you pick out a ring for your girl?"

"Well, I don't have many girl friends, okay? Anyway, my girl is his sister, so..."

Just then, a masked man ran around the corner of the building. Gary stepped back away from the clerk, getting between the masked man and a mother and child who were about to come out of the store. The mother and her daughter jumped back in fright as Gary and the masked man crashed through the door, the assailant landing heavily on top of him.

Gary grunted in pain. "Hey, Arthur."

"What?!" The masked man scrambled to his feet and hauled Gary up after him. He pushed Gary against a wall and pulled a gun out of his waistband. Keeping his voice low, he said, "I don't know who you are, but don't you say my name again, you understand?"

"Sure, whatever you say." Over Matson's shoulder, Gary could see a security guard reaching for his gun. "Don't!" he shouted. "It's okay!"

Matson stepped back and looked over at the security guard, who was hesitating at Gary's distress. He pressed his gun into the bandage on Gary's neck. "Don't try it," he warned.

"Ah-ow... easy," Gary complained. To the guard, he said, "It'll be all right. Everything's fine here. This man doesn't want to hurt anyone, do you, Mister M- er, do you?"

The eyes glared at him from under the mask.

"Y-you just want a way to pay your bills, right? Same as anyone else," Gary said appeasingly.

Matson looked from Gary to the guard again. The mother was against the wall by the door, holding her little girl tightly against her. There was no sign of the clerk who had gone outside.

"Now, listen," Gary went on. "That clerk that was outside with me a moment ago - she's gone to call the police, no question about it. So the only question is, what are they gonna find when they get here? Are they gonna find a big mess and people hurt, and you in the middle of it because you couldn't make up your mind what to do? Or are they gonna find everyone okay, you gone slick as a whistle, and no sign you were ever here other than a little missing jewelry? That's not so bad, is it?"

Matson directed his attention to a man behind the main counter. "You," he said. "I want diamonds. All the diamonds in that case there. Put 'em in a bag."

"All right, sir," the man said calmly.

"And you," Matson barked at the security guard, "you drop your gun on the floor. Slowly! I get the idea you're gonna try something, this guy's dead, you understand?"

"I understand," the guard said, doing as he was told. The gun hit the floor.

"Come on." Matson walked Gary to the gun on the floor. "You're gonna pick it up and give it to me," he said firmly.

"Okay, no problem." _I'm hostage to a gunman two days in a row... is every day like this in Starling City?_ Gary bent down with Matson and reached for the gun on the floor. The pain in his neck never went away completely; Matson kept his gun pressed tightly against it. When they were upright again, he handed the second gun to Matson. "There you go."

"Good." Matson tucked the second gun into his belt and walked Gary over to the counter where the man was putting jewelry into a velvet bag. The name tag on the man's shirt said "Ben St John" with "Manager" under it.

"Let's all just stay calm, Ben," Gary said.

The manager nodded and continued his work.

"Hurry it up," Matson said. He glanced back quickly to make sure no one was moving. The little girl was crying, but at least she was being pretty quiet about it.

Gary wanted to look at his paper, but he couldn't very well do that at the moment. He had to play things by ear until he got a chance.

Just then there was the sound of breaking glass and Gary got a dizzying sense of déjà vu as an arrow whizzed across the room and knocked the gun away from Gary's neck.

Matson didn't completely lose his grip on the gun. Cursing, he lifted it up again, but he didn't get it trained on his victim again before Gary gave him a strong kick to the gut. As Matson hit the floor and his gun fell from his hand, he saw a hooded form swinging in through the broken window to land lightly on the floor. It was the Vigilante, large as life. "No," he said desperately.

The Arrow drew back his bowstring again and fired; the arrow went through the shoulder of Matson's hoodie and pinned him to the floor. "The next one won't be so gentle," the Arrow said in his low, dangerous voice.

 _Him again, Gary thought. How did he know?_

* * *

 _How indeed? Psh, have a happy cliff-hanger. Leave a review on your way out, will ya?_


	8. The Cover Story

_The pace is picking up; hang on for the ride!_

* * *

"I didn't wanna do it," Matson exclaimed. "I wasn't gonna hurt anyone! Please, don't kill me!"

The Arrow stalked closer as Matson cringed as far away as his anchor would allow him. He kicked Matson's gun away from his hand and stooped to pull the second gun from the cowering man's belt. "Today, you didn't hurt anyone." He crouched beside Matson and looked him in the eye. "Today, I don't hurt you."

Gary gawked for a moment before pulling the paper from his back pocket.

 **Jewelry Heist Foiled by Vigilante and Stranger**

A quick skim of the story told him that no one would be injured. Gary relaxed and moved toward the Arrow.

"I'll never do it again," Matson whimpered. "I just didn't know what to do. I lost my job, I couldn't make my car payments, so they hauled it away... I think my wife's gonna leave me..."

"There are other ways. I'm giving you a second chance here. Don't blow it."

Gary looked over at the mother, who was trying to get her daughter to go outside with her, but the child wouldn't move. He walked around the Arrow to kneel in front of her. "Hey, Emma. My name's Gary."

The little girl sniffed. "Hi."

"How do you know her name?" her mother asked.

"Oh, uh... I heard you say it earlier."

"Oh. I guess I was so freaked out... I don't know what I said."

"Is he going to jail?" Emma asked.

"Yeah, I think so."

"He was gonna shoot you."

Gary shook his head. "No. Mister Matson's just a scared man. He was scared he was gonna lose everything he had, so he thought robbing this place was his only chance. He didn't really wanna hurt anyone. But when the police take him away, they'll make sure he learns his lesson. Everything will be okay. The good guys always win, right?"

Emma sniffed again. She tore herself away from her mother and threw her arms around Gary's neck.

"I'm sorry," her mother said quietly.

"It's okay," Gary answered, patting the little girl's back.

"I'm so glad you were here... if you hadn't gotten between us and that man, I think he'd have knocked us down instead of you... Emma might have been badly hurt."

"Well, you know... I was just in the right place at the right time. Happened to be waiting for a friend outside..."

"I bet that friend's glad they were late, now."

Emma moved back rather suddenly, looking up at something behind Gary. Following her gaze, Gary saw that the Arrow had come to stand directly behind him.

"Are you a good guy or a bad guy?" Emma asked.

"Emma," her mother said nervously, putting a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

"That's a good question," said the Arrow. "I want to be a good guy, but the good guys don't like working with me. I guess they think I'm a bad guy."

"Well, _I_ think you're a good guy," Emma declared.

Gary smiled a little, and he heard the Arrow huff out a small breath that suggested he was smiling, too.

"Thanks. That means a lot to me. I have to go now, but I'm leaving these guns with Gary here, to make sure the right people get them."

"Okay."

"Oh..." Gary took the guns as they were handed to him. "Uh, okay." He nervously turned them so they were pointed at the floor.

"It's all right; they're not loaded anymore." The Arrow thumped Gary on the shoulder and then he was gone, out the broken window again.

A moment later, police were pouring in through the front door. Matson was soon in handcuffs and the jewelry returned to its case. Gary was about to make his exit when a policeman locked eyes with him: Officer Lance.

"Hobson, wasn't it?" Lance asked, walking over to him.

"Ye-yes, sir."

"Twice in two days - what, do you go looking for hostage-takers and ask to be part of their hold-up?"

"Believe me, I don't enjoy being held at gunpoint."

"What were you doing here?"

"Uh... waiting for a friend." Gary had learned the hard way that it was best to stick to the same story.

"A friend? Didn't you say yesterday that you were from out of town?"

"Well, yes... but it's kind of hard to go to a city as big as Starling without knowing _someone_ that lives there."

"I suppose. So, who is this friend of yours?"

"Well - "

"Gary! There you are!"

Surprised at the welcome interruption, Gary looked up to see Oliver Queen walking toward him. "Ollie?"

"What the hell, man? First you almost get killed at Starling Tech, then you run into another crazed gunman at the jeweler's... You okay? What are you anyway, a bad luck magnet?"

"This wouldn't be the 'friend' you were waiting for, would it?" asked Lance.

"Yeah," Ollie said before Gary had a chance to speak. "We went to school together way back... I didn't remember until after we left Starling Tech yesterday. Gary told me he was looking for some fine jewelry..."

"For my girl back home," Gary interjected, scrambling to keep his story somewhat straight before Ollie inadvertently messed it up.

"...And I know the area, and of course St John's is the best place in town," Ollie continued, not missing a beat. "But then of course I was at the club super late last night going over paperwork with Thea - we're officially joint owners now, by the way - so I woke up kind of late and I get down here and see... what are there, eight cop cars out there?"

"Six," Lance said flatly.

"Crazy. All for one guy." Ollie looked over at Matson, who was being led away.

"You know him?" Lance asked, watching Ollie's face.

"I think he used to work for my father. Got laid off when we had all those cut-backs."

"Shame."

"Yeah. I hate that so many people are out of a job... and that they decide to try robbing people when they can't find honest work."

"Yeah. Anyway..." Lance turned back to Gary. "Is there a number where I can reach you if I have any more questions for you?"

Gary gave Lance his hotel number.

"Will you be in town for a while? We may need you as a witness."

"Well, that's hard to say. It all depends on... whether I'm able to conduct my business quickly, you see."

"What business is that?"

"Uh, I own a bar in Chicago, and I'm looking for a new feel for it. I also do a little freelance writing for the Sun-Times, and if I can get either what I want for the bar or a good news story, I'll be set to go home."

"Looks to me like you've got your news story - write about being held hostage two days in a row. Your readers'll never believe it, but you can bet they'll enjoy reading it anyway."

"Maybe so. I'd have to write it from the point of view of an 'anonymous hostage.' It might be believable that way."

"Good idea."

"Are you done with him?" Ollie asked, putting an arm around Gary's shoulders. "I'm sure Gary's nerves are shot. He could use some coffee or something."

"That does sound good," Gary agreed.

"Sure, I'm done with him for now. Take care of yourself, Hobson."

"Thank you, officer."

Gary let Ollie steer him out of the store and through the police line outside. He noticed a motorcycle parked nearby, and although Ollie was weaving through the crowd of onlookers and news crews quite skillfully, he seemed not to notice the bike blocking their path. Gary was just about to say something about changing their course when Ollie let go of him and lifted the bike's seat to retrieve a helmet which he handed to Gary. He then grabbed the helmet that was hanging off the motorcycle's handlebars.

"Hop on."

"Huh?"

"This is my ride. Let's go."

 _Rich guy,_ Gary remembered. _Car, chauffeur_ and _a motorcycle._ _Okay, then._ He wanted to get away from the crowd, so he didn't argue. Once Ollie was astride the bike, he climbed on behind him, helmet in place. He quickly tucked the newspaper into his jacket before they started off.

He didn't bother trying to keep track of where they were going. Ollie seemed to like going very fast, but the ride was smooth and the turns seemed effortless. Gary relaxed his initial death-grip around Ollie's waist, flattening his palms on the other man's abs.

 _Damn... are those his muscles I'm feeling? Or is he wearing some sort of bulletproof vest or something? He's hard as a rock!_ Protective gear would make sense for the motorcycle, he supposed. And this was 2015. Maybe it was standard equipment for road warriors of the time. _But I can feel him breathing... it feels like it's just him._

He still wasn't sure when Ollie parked in front of a diner. It looked cheap - Gary was surprised he would choose such a place.

"Here we are," said Ollie. "You hungry? I skipped breakfast this morning..."

"So did I," Gary remembered. "What time is it?"

"It's decidedly brunch time. I'll get you anything on the menu if you tell me how you got yourself into trouble again so soon."

"What? I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time..."

"Oh, really?"

Gary could smell breakfast food now. It was hitting him strong from the diner, making him hungrier. "Look, I'll answer your questions if you answer some for me."

"Fair enough. Let's go."

* * *

Gary ordered a big breakfast plate and Ollie followed his lead. They both had healthy appetites, though Ollie outdid him on the pancakes. They both had coffee refills as well. Finally, Ollie leaned back in the booth, stomach satisfied.

"So, why were you at St John's?" Ollie asked.

"I was walking downtown, getting the lay of the land... and I saw this girl walking. She was very nice-looking, and I wanted to see where she was going."

It was plausible so far, but Gary didn't really seem like that type. Not when he was in town on "business." But Ollie didn't interrupt.

"Well, it turned out she was heading for the jewelry store, but it wasn't open yet, so I realized she must work there. So I did some more walking and went back when they were open, but then I felt kind of silly and couldn't bring myself to go in. Well, they noticed me hanging around and eventually she came out to see what I was up to, and that's when I made up the story of waiting for a friend. When the police asked what I was doing there, I decided to stick to that story instead of explaining that I'd followed a girl there."

"How come? I mean, it's not like they'd rat you out."

"Maybe not, but I was embarrassed. And someone might have overheard and told her about it."

Still plausible, but something didn't feel right. Ollie decided not to push it for now.

"How about you? How come you were there just in time to corroborate my story?"

"I was nearby when I heard them say the robber's name on the radio. I thought I recognized it - like I told Lance, I think he used to work for my dad."

"You heard the radio on your motorcycle?"

"Radio helmet."

Gary blinked. He looked as if he'd never heard of such a thing. "Really? That's cool. Um... are those common these days?"

"Not real common, but we're getting there."

"They're probably expensive, huh?"

"Yeah, a little bit."

"So, on a whim, you decided to go see if you recognized the robber?"

"Yup, that's about it."

"How come you backed me up?"

"I don't know, really." Ollie traced the rim of his coffee cup with one finger. "You just seem... like you have your reasons for things. You have one of those faces, you know?"

"I've been told."

"And you did help out my little sis in a life-or-death situation, let's not forget."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"Still, you want to be careful about lying to the police. It can get you in serious trouble."

"I'm sure. I'll try not to do it again."

"Okay. Listen, Thea would really like to see you again. If you're free, would you like to have dinner with us?"

"Um..." Gary absent-mindedly thumbed through the copy of the Starling City Sentinel he'd brought in with him. "I can probably do that."

"Great. I'll call you later with the details. Will you be going back to the hotel?"

"I think so."

"Do you want me to take you there now?"

"No; I'd actually like to find a book store... I heard someone say something about a place called Henry's...?"

"Old Henry's Book Barn. It's the biggest used book place around."

"That sounds worth checking out. Is it far?"

"Nah. It's a couple miles down on Henry Clay. I can get you there, no problem."

"I'd appreciate it. I can get a cab from there."

"All right. If you're not in when I call, I'll leave you a message. And you can always call me if I haven't got hold of you by dinnertime, okay?"

"Sure."

Ollie settled the check and left a six-dollar tip on the table. Gary looked at the bills as if he couldn't believe that it was the tip and not the charge for his whole meal.

He dropped Gary off at the bookstore and then headed back to the Verdant. On the way there, he called Felicity via his helmet link.

"How'd it go?" Felicity asked.

"Fine. You'll never guess who was in St John's."

"Gary Hobson?"

"How'd you know?"

"Because you said I'd never guess."

"Ah. Well, I just fed him breakfast. He ate well, and that always says honesty to me, but there's something he's not telling me. Something... weird."

"Just an instinct?"

"Something."

"Maybe you should keep a close eye on him, just in case."

"Way ahead of you. I planted a homing device on him."

"Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

 _Ollie is sneaky. ^^ Reviews please?  
_


	9. The Starling Sentinel

_A little interlude. Friendship fluff between Ollie and Felicity. Enjoy. xp_

* * *

Gary was much more relaxed on the way to the bookstore. He didn't like the fact that he wasn't on his way home yet, but at least he seemed to have satisfied Ollie's curiosity for now, and it was nice to have an ally. There was something weird about the way Ollie had shown up at the jeweler's, but the same was true of himself, so he decided not to worry too much about it.

"Thanks for the ride," he said, handing Ollie's spare helmet back to him.

"No problem. I'll talk to you later."

"Yup." Gary waved Ollie off and went into the bookstore.

The smell of old books was heavy in the air, but Gary liked the smell. He knew his parents would like it, too. _Mom would go nuts in here... I wonder if Old Henry's is around in the '90s._

He began looking around for a woman in her mid-thirties. She would be on a ladder or about to climb one. There were a few sliding ladders around the walls, but they all had "STAFF ONLY" labels on them. Gary wandered around a minute or two until he saw a young woman start up a ladder. She didn't look like a member of staff.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Gary said, approaching the ladder. "Ma'am? Uh, Missus Crabtree?"

The woman looked down at him in surprise. "Yes?" she said.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to come down from there, ma'am... authorized personnel only."

"Oh, really? Look, mister, first of all, you don't look like authorized personnel yourself, and second of all, how do you know my name?"

"That's not important right now... the important thing is, that ladder's not safe."

"It's perfectly safe!" she scoffed. "It'll certainly hold long enough for me to..." she reached out for a book.

"Don't do that!" Gary exclaimed so sharply that the woman drew her hand back as if she'd been bitten. "You're gonna get off balance and the ladder will come off its casters and the whole thing will come down - you're gonna break your back!"

"I don't know who you think you are," Mrs. Crabtree said, reaching for the book again, "but you need to calm down and learn to mind your own..."

The ladder creaked and then there was a _snap_ as something broke loose from its fastenings. The ladder jerked around as one side swung free, and Gary barely had time to get into position before the other side came loose from the wall. The woman gave a small yelp as she fell, only to find herself landing more or less upright, thanks to Gary's well-placed hands and balanced stance. She let go of the ladder and it clattered on the floor.

"I gotcha," Gary said, steadying her. "You all right?"

"Yes... I'm fine. Just embarrassed."

A member of management hurried onto the scene. "Are you hurt, ma'am?"

"No, I'm fine," she told him. "I'm so sorry about the ladder... I'll pay for the damages."

"I tried to tell her the ladders are for staff only," Gary put in.

"That's true, I'm afraid," she admitted. "Here, let me write down my information for you and you can send me a bill."

"That's very gracious of you, ma'am," said the manager.

 _No more than she ought to do,_ Gary thought. _It was kind of her own damn fault..._ "Well, I should be going."

Gary took a step, but Mrs. Crabtree grabbed him by the arm. "No, don't run off. If you hadn't been here I could have been badly hurt. I want to thank you."

"Well... you're welcome." He tried to leave again, but again found himself restrained.

"Just a moment..." she finished writing down her information for the manager and gave Gary her full attention. "Let me buy you a cup of coffee or something."

"Thank you, but I just had some."

"How about an early lunch, then?"

"Just had brunch." He could see that she was getting frustrated, but still very determined.

"You should come to my house for dinner, then. I'm sure my husband would like to thank you, too."

"That's nice of you, but I'm just visiting town for a short while, and some friends of mine want me to have dinner with them..."

"All right then, name your return favor. What can I do for you?"

Gary shook his head. "Truth be told, ma'am, I don't want anything from you. I understand you're grateful, and I'm sure you have the best of intentions, but... well, have you heard of the 'Good Samaritan Law'?"

"No, I don't think so."

"It's a law that's there to encourage people to help each other. Which is a good idea, of course... It protects people who help strangers of their own volition, in case they make a mistake, you see. That way they can't be sued for messing up when they were trying to help."

"I see... but what does that have to do with me thanking you?"

"Well, if I let you buy me something or feed me dinner, that can be misconstrued as a form of payment. And then it's not of the rescuer's own volition anymore, and the law won't protect him. You understand?"

"You think I would sue you?"

"No... but you can't be too careful these days. It's awfully nice of you to offer and everything, but I really do have a dinner engagement already, and I just think it's for the best if you let your verbal thanks stand."

She looked disappointed, as he expected, and maybe a little offended.

"I'm sorry..."

"No, that's all right. If you can't trust a stranger, at least you'll still help one. Thank you very much..."

"Gary."

"Gary. It was a pleasure not getting injured with you."

Gary smiled. "The pleasure's all mine, ma'am."

As he left the store, he found himself thinking, _It's almost easier when they get mad at me for helping them. I won't get so annoyed next time that happens._

* * *

"Is he still in the bookstore?" Ollie asked.

"Nope," said Felicity. "He was only there a few minutes. He's been moving slowly; I'd say he's on foot."

Ollie went to the curtained-off mattress he'd brought in for napping. "I'm gonna see if I can catch a little sleep. Keep an eye on him and tell me if anything interesting happens."

"Okay."

Felicity watched Ollie disappear behind the curtain. _He's like a big pet tiger or something,_ she thought to herself. _So tough when he's out there... such a kitten when he's sleepy._

Ollie pulled back the curtain at the bottom and poked his head out. "You changed the sheets."

"You're welcome."

He smiled. "Thanks." He let the curtain fall again.

 _Kitty-cat._

She turned her attention back to her screen where a red dot indicated Hobson's location. The dot continued to move slowly for a while until it finally entered a building. Felicity looked up the address and found that it was a sports bar. About fifteen minutes later, Hobson came out again. Then the dot traveled more quickly in little spurts; he must be in a car. He arrived at the Victoria hotel and the dot stayed motionless.

 _Wonder if he's napping, too. He has had a busy couple of days._

Diggle checked in then and Felicity left him watching the screen while she went to pick up food. She got enough for the three of them, knowing Ollie would probably be hungry again when he woke up. When she returned to HQ, Dig reported that Hobson hadn't left the hotel. The report was the same when Ollie crawled out of his den an hour later.

Ollie began his exercise routine then, and Felicity found it hard to keep her eyes off him. He started with stretches, then did a few regular pushups before moving on to one-armed pushups. After that he took a water break before hitting the salmon ladder. That was Felicity's favorite, and she quit watching Hobson's stationary dot altogether. The way he hauled his legs up and his arms followed through and manipulated that metal bar over and over until she thought something was going to break... and just when she thought he had to be exhausted, he'd do some other crazy thing... When he finally turned over backward to land on the floor again, it seemed like it had all happened in a moment.

"He still at the hotel?"

Felicity looked back at her screen. "...Uh, no..."

"Where is he?"

"Moving. He's halfway across town."

"Why didn't you say so?"

"Um... I got distracted."

"Felicity," Ollie scolded, "it's not like we're busy, here. I asked you to do one thing..."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. But he just moved in the last few minutes. It looks like he's heading for the mall."

"Shopping," Dig commented. "Fascinating. Why are we interested in this guy?"

"Because there's nothing else to do," Felicity supplied.

"Because there's something weird about him," Ollie said, ignoring her.

 _Oh, the kitty's gone and the tiger's waking up..._

"Man, there's something weird about you, too," said Dig. "Good thing Felicity and I trust you."

"Uh-huh."

The red dot turned off the main road on Felicity's schematic. "It's the mall, all right. He'll probably be there a while."

"Well, make sure you check every couple minutes. I want to know everywhere he goes."

"Okay, Chief."

Ollie attacked the bags of food then, demolishing a salad, two club sandwiches and liter of vitamin water.

"Damn, kid," Dig muttered. "I'm glad I ate before you... there'd be nothing left."

"Yeah, well, once it settles I'll be ready to spar, so you might want to stretch or something."

Dig raised his eyebrows. "You trash-talking me?"

"No," Ollie said innocently.

Felicity smirked to herself. _Boys, boys, boys..._

* * *

"I'm looking for something kinda semi-formal," Gary told Greg, the professional adviser in the men's suit shop at the mall.

"So, not a tuxedo," said Greg.

"No, definitely not that formal. But... I'm not sure _how_ formal, you see."

"What is the occasion?"

"I'm having dinner with some friends tonight."

"I see."

"We, um... well, it's an old school friend and his sister, and we recently went through a tough experience together, so we're kind of... I dunno, celebrating being alive, I guess you might say."

"Do you know where you will be dining?"

"Not yet. He's going to call me."

"In that case, I recommend something black and simple. Black is always formal, but a simple cut will prevent you from looking overdressed in a humble establishment."

Gary felt some of his tension going away. "See, this is what they pay you people for. I'm never sure about these things."

"Just let me get your measurements and I'll have some examples out for you in no time."

"Thank you very much."

When Greg had left the front room, Gary took a seat on a comfortable sofa and perused the paper. The story about an elderly man slipping in the mall's candy store and breaking a hip was what had brought him to the mall in the first place, but he still had about half an hour before that would happen. He sat back and tried to relax.

Before long, he was looking at his suit options and trying to understand the differences in style and material. The prices ran from three to twelve hundred dollars. He had nearly two thousand from the off-track betting at the sports bar where he'd been before taking a cab to the mall, but he didn't want to drop most of it in one place. Back in '90s Chicago, he'd never bought a suit for more than three hundred.

"I think I'll go with this one," Gary said, choosing the second-cheapest option he'd been shown. He liked the style and didn't feel too wasteful about the price.

"An excellent choice," Greg said immediately, and Gary suspected he'd been waiting to say it regardless of which suit he chose. "I'll have one tailored to your measurements in about three hours. Will that do?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll be back around four-thirty."

"We'll see you then, Mister Hobson."

Gary took his time getting to know the layout of the mall and did a little window shopping before making his way to the candy store. The paper said that the elderly gentleman would "slip," but it didn't say on what. With roughly two minutes to spare, Gary saw a child drop a jaw breaker on the floor. When he began crying, his mother bought him another one, not bothering to pick up the first.

Gary was working his way over towards the jawbreaker when he saw an elderly man about to enter the shop. "Oh no," he said to himself. He dove forward and snatched up the jaw breaker as the man came to an abrupt halt in front of him.

"Young man, what are you doing?" the older man demanded.

"I, uh... I didn't want you to slip on this jaw breaker," Gary said, holding it up.

"Well, don't drop it next time and there'll be no danger of that," the other snapped.

"I... I didn't!"

"Are you going to sit on the floor all day, or will you let me by?"

Chaffing under the abuse, Gary moved to the side, allowing the man to walk by him. "You're welcome," he muttered. _So much for not getting annoyed next time._

After that the Starling Sentinel seemed to be clear. Gary searched it over and over for any news on Chicago, but there was none. There was nothing about planes or the airport either.

"Come on, I wanna go home," he said, glancing over the pages for the fifth time.

Finally, he gave up and got himself a soft pretzel and some soda. He wandered through the mall some more until his snack was gone and he was tired of walking. With nothing better to do, he went into the arcade.

 _I wonder how much games have changed in the last fifteen years or so..._

These graphics were a lot more detailed than those in the games of his childhood, and game play was more sophisticated, too. After trying several different games, Gary found himself enjoying a game called "Kung Fu Panda - Dojo Mojo." He felt a little silly slapping the red circles, but before long he was so intent on hitting the targets on the screen that he lost all track of time.

"Hey, Mister? You gonna play that all day?"

Gary looked up from the between-rounds screen and saw a group of kids watching him. "Oh... I, uh... sorry, did you want a turn?"

"Duh! We all wanna try. We've been waiting half an hour!"

"Sorry, I... I never played a game like this before."

The little boy crossed his skinny arms. _"None of us_ has played that game before. It wasn't here last week. You gonna let us play or not?"

Gary glanced back at the screen and saw that the round had started without him... and ended without him. "Oh, okay. Tell you what... you can have my tickets, okay?"

"Really?"

"Sure, they're all yours. Sorry for making you wait."

"Thanks, Mister," the kids chorused.

"Yeah, no problem." Gary checked his watch. It was almost four o'clock. He needed to head back for his suit soon.

* * *

"Felicity?"

Knowing what Ollie was about to ask, Felicity called, "He's still at the mall."

"Really? What the hell is he doing? He's been there for hours."

"Oh, I dunno... _shopping?"_

Ollie sighed. He had hoped his suspicions would be confirmed sooner than this. "I don't suppose we could get eyes on him?"

"You want me to hack mall security?"

"Sure... should be easy."

"It would be easy, but it seems kinda petty. I mean, he hasn't really done anything wrong, has he?"

"No."

"I don't like hacking just to satisfy your curiosity."

"Fine." Ollie headed for the shower stall at the other end of the room. "I'm gonna take a shower."

"I'm gonna try not to think about that too hard."

"What?"

"Nothing. See you later."

* * *

 _There you go, Felollie fans. Now, back to the slash idea... Review?  
_


	10. It's a Long Story

_Chapter 10, Gary has dinner with Ollie and Thea.  
_

* * *

Gary got out of the shower and dried off quickly before wrapping a thick hotel bathrobe around himself. The phone was ringing when he got out of the bathroom and he hurried to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Gary? It's Ollie."

"Hey. How's it going?"

"Fine. I talked to Thea and she wants Italian for dinner. That okay with you?"

"Yeah... that's fine." Water dripped from Gary's hair onto the phone. He combed his hair to the other side with his free hand.

"Great. We'll pick you up in about an hour."

"Sounds good."

Gary hung up the phone and got out the new toiletries, socks and underwear he'd gotten after picking up his suit - his luggage still hadn't arrived. Then it was time to put on the suit.

It fit at least as well as any suit he'd ever had, and he had to admit he liked the feel of it. He'd chosen a narrow gray tie to go with it, and he thought it looked good, but of course he wasn't well-informed on the fashion of the times. He hoped this wasn't a boutonniere occasion; there wasn't time to find a florist.

His new shoes felt stiff, but that couldn't be helped. You don't wear sneakers with a suit. He combed his hair about five times. Drank a glass of water. Checked out the window five times.

Finally, Ollie called again to say that they were waiting for him in front of the hotel.

"Well, here goes nothing," Gary muttered, wondering why he was so nervous, and why he had agreed to go to dinner with these people when he would most likely be leaving the next day...

It occurred to him suddenly that he hadn't seen the cat since that morning. _Well, if he didn't stick around, maybe I won't be here much longer, either,_ he thought hopefully.

* * *

Gary seemed the same as he had the other times Ollie had seen him: nice, polite... and fidgety. And it looked like he had something hidden under his suit jacket. It wasn't a gun... it didn't seem like any sort of weapon, but it would poke outward from time to time. Sometimes Gary would notice and nonchalantly try to hide it. Ollie pretended to be oblivious to this strange behavior.

"I think you'll really like this restaurant," said Thea. "I haven't been to it for a long time... I kept meaning to, but... no one to go with."

Ollie kept his expression neutral, but inside he felt a twinge of guilt. Thea had broken up with Roy because Roy had been lying to her, and Roy had been lying to her because Ollie wouldn't let him tell her the truth. It was for the best in the long run, but he knew she was probably still hurting over it. At least she and Roy were back on speaking terms, though things were still tense.

"Well... now you have someone to go with," Gary said, in that awkward, cheerful, nice... _off_ way of his.

Thea didn't seem put off by him in the slightest. "Yup! I hope you're in the mood to party. I haven't had a fun night away from the club in a long time. Ollie and I have a club called Verdant," she added.

"Yeah, I think I heard Ollie say you were joint partners?"

"As of last night. It was his first. Then he sort of abandoned it and I took over. But I was nice and let him back in."

Ollie snorted and nudged her with his elbow. She was sitting between Gary and himself, Dig driving again. Could they afford a chauffeur? Not really, but it was nice to keep up appearances, and Dig was willing to play the part.

"It's nice when families can work together," said Gary. "Me, I never had any brothers or sisters..."

"Lucky," said Thea.

"Hey!" said Ollie.

Gary smiled. "I think it would have been nice. Sometimes, anyway. Maybe if I had a sister my mom would have doted on her instead and given me some peace..."

"Nah," Thea replied, "moms always dote on the boys. That's why Ollie's so spoiled."

"Gee, are we having 'grilled Ollie' tonight?" Ollie asked, feigning hurt feelings.

In answer, Thea took Ollie's hand and snuggled into his side. It surprised him a little. He and Thea had fought quite a bit in recent weeks. She was mad at him for leaving right after their mother died, not to mention a lot of other things. Maybe she'd finally forgiven him. Maybe she was just exhausted from being angry all the time and she was ready to move on. Or maybe the shooting the day before had caused her to set the grudge aside. Whatever the reason, this was the cuddliest she'd been in a long time, and he decided that if Thea was brave enough to come out of her shell a little, he should encourage her. He planted a quick kiss on top of her head and then looked out the front of the car.

Gary cleared his throat. "So, um... I - I guess it's probably kinda rude to ask, but do you mind telling me what happened to your parents?"

Ollie looked over at him, wondering if Gary had been checking up on them.

"I heard you say yesterday... at the school... that Thea was 'all you had,'" Gary explained awkwardly.

 _Oh yeah... I did say that, didn't I? Eavesdropper._ "It's kind of a long story," Ollie said. "It'll keep for another time."

"Well, it's not really my business..." Gary backpedaled.

"It's okay. Inquiring minds want to know. You still have your folks?"

"Yeah."

"Do you get along?" asked Thea, still nestled against Ollie in such away that the others couldn't see her face.

"Yeah, we do. Most of the time, anyway. They're good people. I'm lucky."

Ollie nodded involuntarily. He gave Thea's hand a little squeeze. _Our parents weren't what you'd call "good people." But at least I know they loved us._

At the restaurant, Ollie played the perfect host. He tried talking sports a bit, since most guys his age enjoyed it, but Gary didn't seem to know even as much as Ollie did on the topic, and that relieved him. _Good. Sports are lame._ In his head, he could hear Tommy's voice repeating a series of statistics he was fond of citing from time to time - and which he had made up himself.

 _"The school is made up of invisibles - fifty percent - jocks - twenty-five percent - nerds - twelve-point-five - and preps - twelve-point-five. If you can't tell a nerd from a prep, you're a jock or an invisible. If you don't care which is which you're an invisible. If you're failing math and/or science but you don't have trouble getting dates, you're a jock. If you'd rather not date at all, you're a nerd. If you want desperately to date but you can't, you're an invisible. If you're passing all your classes, have dates lining up around the block and don't give a shit about sports..."_

 _"You're a prep!" Ollie finished, punching the air._

 _"And we, my friend, are preps," Tommy said, wrapping an arm around Ollie's shoulders. "Top o' the food chain. This place is ours, and man have I got plans for this year..."_

Ollie came back to the present. _We were such jerks back then,_ he reflected. _But man, did we have some fun._

"Oh, Thea," Ollie said, remembering, "Gary owns a bar back in Chicago. He's looking for a new feel for it."

"Doing a re-vamp?" Thea asked. "Sounds cool. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, uh..." Gary looked like an amateur actor scrambling for his lines. "McGinty's has kind of a classic, old-time feel to it," he said in a rush. "But we've got TV's and... stuff. I guess I want to keep the classic feel but give it a little... something new, too."

"Gotcha. You should come to the club later. Maybe something there will inspire you."

"I'd like to, but I can't stay out late tonight," Gary said.

"Somewhere to be in the morning?" asked Ollie.

"Yeah... well, actually... I'm waiting to talk to my, uh, my uncle. I need to tell him what's been going on so far and see if he wants me to fly back tomorrow."

"So soon?" Thea asked.

"A lot's happened in the last day and a half... I need to be ready to go if I have to."

Thea seemed disappointed and Ollie felt that way a bit, himself. Gary made him curious, if nothing else. He was an interesting distraction from... other things.

After dinner, the server asked if they would be having dessert.

"I'm stuffed," said Thea.

"Me, too," said Gary. "I didn't think about dessert."

"You have to at least try the gelato," said Ollie.

Thea moaned. "I doubt I could eat more than a bite or two."

"One large gelato," said Ollie. "Whatever flavor you recommend. We'll share it."

The server walked briskly away.

"Share it, huh?" said Thea, wrinkling her nose. "I don't wanna get your cooties."

Ollie rolled his eyes. "Cooties die off after middle school."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup. And if any lingered, I lost 'em in the ocean when the ship went down."

For some reason, Thea accepted this explanation cheerfully. "Okay."

"Ship?" asked Gary.

"Another long story," said Ollie. "If you get to stay in Starling a little longer, maybe I'll have the chance to tell you about it."

"Maybe." Gary glanced at his watch, prompting Ollie to look at his own.

 _Almost nine. He looks nervous... well, more than usual. Maybe there actually is something he wants to get done tonight, but he doesn't want to say what it is._

Ollie called Dig to let him know they would be ready to be picked up soon. A few minutes later the ice cream came back - pale brown, freckled gelato. Cinnamon, the server said. Ollie enjoyed the treat immensely, as did the others, in spite of their earlier declarations of fullness. Gary seemed surprised at how good it was, and he even quipped that maybe the new twist his bar needed was gelato.

"Slow down, sis," Ollie scolded as Thea reached for the bowl. "What happened to being stuffed?"

"Well, I was... but I can stuff in some more - this is too good!"

Gary looked at his watch again. "I really ought to get going," he said.

It was still only a little after nine, but Gary seemed quite anxious to leave.

"Okay," Ollie said. "Here, Speedy... stuff your face real quick and let's go."

"I'll get brain freeze!" Thea protested.

"Aw, no one will know the difference."

Thea slapped his arm.

"I can just get a cab," Gary said, pushing his chair back. "You want me to leave the tip?"

Ollie stood too ( _Thanks for the etiquette lessons, Mom_ ), and said, "I've got it. I can get a cab for you if you want."

"That's nice of you, but I'm fine. My luggage hasn't turned up yet, but I... I managed to get access to some of my money, so I'm okay now."

"Those idiots at the airport," Thea muttered. "What if you have to leave before it gets to you?"

Gary shrugged. "There's nothing irreplaceable in there. It'll be okay."

Ollie offered Gary his hand. "It's been nice getting to know you, Gary. Nice knowing you lived through another day, too."

"Thanks; I had a nice time."

Thea got up and gave Gary a hug. "I hope you don't have to leave right away, but you can look us up any time, all right?"

"All right. Thank you. You guys have a nice night."

"You, too," Ollie said. He sat down and watched Gary leave. He was dying to know whether or not Gary would go back to the hotel right away. "You go ahead and finish that," he told Thea. "I'm going to hit the restroom before we go."

"Okay, but I don't know if this is gonna fit," Thea answered, bravely facing another spoonful of the (now very soft) gelato.

Once he was sure the men's room was empty, Ollie called Felicity. "Hobson is mobile again," he said. "Keep a close eye on him."

"Roger," Felicity answered. "I'll text you once he stops somewhere."

After a suitable amount of time, Ollie headed back out to their table. "You ready to go?"

Thea nodded, her disbelieving stare on the empty glass dish in front of her. "I can't believe I ate all that."

Ollie smiled as he picked up the check and filled it out, including a generous tip even though his budget was tight. "This was fun," he said.

"Yeah." Thea moved to get up and Ollie pulled her chair out for her. "Thanks."

"Maybe a movie next time, huh?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, maybe."

Ollie was still full of curiosity about Gary, but he was very pleased with the current T-R (Thea Relations). Maybe before much longer they would be able to discuss their mother's death without a fight or a major breakdown.

* * *

 _I would offer you a bribe to review, but the story is supposed to be the bribe. Where's the review?  
_


	11. At Verdant

_Did you notice the previous five chapters had newspaper-related titles? Do you find themed chapter titles annoying? For some reason I have fun trying to link them together._

* * *

"He stuck around this intersection for a while... like three or four minutes. It doesn't seem like much, but considering he was in a cab and it doesn't take three minutes for the light to change..."

Ollie looked over Felicity's shoulder at the road map on her computer screen. "Yeah, it's a little weird."

"I still can't believe you got a second tracker on him."

"Actually, Dig planted this one."

Felicity gave Diggle an impressed look.

"The hard part was waiting for a chance when Thea wouldn't notice," Dig said.

"Seriously," Ollie agreed. "I think my sis really enjoys looking at this guy. All the more reason to check him out."

"I'll see if I can get anything from traffic cams," said Felicity. "See if we can figure out what he was doing at that spot for so long."

"There's something else. He said he got access to some of his money, but he doesn't have a phone, and he didn't go to a bank, right?"

"He could have yesterday after you dropped him at the hotel. We weren't monitoring him yet."

"He could have used the hotel phone," added Dig.

"So, why didn't he say so?" asked Ollie. "The way he worded it made it seem like he didn't like to say how he got his money. He could have just said, 'I got some money transferred' or something."

"Maybe he used an ATM at the mall," Felicity suggested. "Oh, here we go." She brought up some dim photos of the intersection. "You can see him getting out of the cab. Next still, about five seconds later, looks like he's reading a newspaper. Five seconds later, checking his watch. Cab's still there, by the curb."

"Next?"

"He's changed position... in this one he's moved the other way... looks like he's pacing." Felicity flipped through a few more pictures. "Here, look. It looks like he sees something or recognizes someone."

"Let's see if they come into frame."

"Okay. No one there... oh, wow, he moved a lot in that one. Car coming toward him, too. Oh, in this one it looks like he's... tackling some guy. Is that what it looks like to you? That car is super close."

"Next."

Felicity clicked to the next frame. "Car's gone... cab's still there... Can't tell if that's Hobson down there, or what. Next one... yeah! He seems to be helping the guy back up. Looks like they might be talking."

"Can you see the other guy's face?"

"Not really... I doubt it would help to try enhancing it either... there's just not enough light falling on him. Still talking... talking... Okay, he's moving back across the street... he's at the cab... he's in the cab... cab's pulling out... cab's at the light... cab's gone."

"Can you make a slide show of these? Say two seconds per frame?"

"Sure. I'll just Power Point that for ya. See what I did there? Using a trademark as a verb?"

"Cute. Let me know when you're done. Did he stop anywhere else?"

"Nope. Back to the hotel."

"This is really weird. This intersection isn't exactly on the way to the Victoria. No cab driver would have taken him that way by coincidence. That means Hobson had to ask him to go there. But that's all he did before going back, so..."

"Are you saying he knew that guy was going to be there?" asked Dig.

"Maybe he'd arranged to meet him at the corner there, just briefly, and then when he showed up he nearly got hit by a car. They did talk a bit after."

"And he did check his watch, like he was expecting someone," said Felicity, already pasting images into her slide show program.

"So, who is this guy, and why were they meeting, and is he the way Hobson got hold of some money? You said he stopped at a bar on the way to the mall today - maybe he met or called this guy from there. Can you get me security footage from the bar?"

"Probably. I'll check once I send this slide show to your ipad."

"Thanks."

"You really think Hobson is important?" Dig asked in his soft, _Not to cramp your style, but you may be wrong_ tone.

"I don't know, but he's acting weird. Maybe he's harmless, but then again, maybe he's mixed up in something big. I don't want to ignore a possible lead."

"Okay."

A few minutes later, while Ollie was watching the loop of pictures for the sixth time, he heard Felicity mutter "Wow," and a little later, she shouted, "Oh, my gosh! Guys, come here!"

Ollie put down his ipad, Dig put down the weight he'd been lifting, and the two of them went to join the hacker.

"I'm in, I found him, and you're not gonna believe this."

What they saw, from the vantage point of the mid-level quality security camera, was Gary entering the sports bar. He took a quick look around, then headed straight for the off-track betting parlor at the side of the room.

"Switching to another camera..." Felicity clicked and typed and then brought up a view of the betting window as Gary approached it. "He doesn't take his time. He just goes up, gives the guy some money... looks like a ten, but it's an old-school bill, so the portrait's smaller. Anyway, he gets his ticket..."

Gary moved away from the counter and watched one of the many large screens mounted on the wall. Before long, a horse race began. Gary looked calm throughout, not urging his horse on as many bettors did, not performing any lucky rituals - just waiting. The race reached its completion.

"Now he goes up... hands in his ticket..."

Gary waited for the clerk to give him his winnings. The teller looked impressed when he handed it over.

"Whoa... those are hundreds, aren't they?" asked Dig.

"Yup. He bet a forty-to-one shot _to win._ "

"Must be a hell of a system," said Ollie.

"Oh, just wait. This is where it gets really good," Felicity said. Her tone told Ollie that she could barely stop herself from spoiling the end.

Gary pushed one of the hundred-dollar bills back toward the teller and said something. The teller looked uncertain, and Ollie thought he could read his lips saying, "Are you sure?" Gary said something else and the teller gave him a second ticket. Gary moved back to watch the next race. Again, he was completely calm. Again, he returned to the window to hand in his ticket.

This time the teller looked more shocked than impressed. This time the stack of money was larger. This time, other people were starting to notice.

"Holy crap," Ollie muttered.

"How much money is that?" asked Dig.

"Looks like over a thousand. Maybe two."

Gary stuffed the money into his coat pockets and left the bar. Other patrons stared after him, commenting to each other and shaking their heads.

"Aaaand he's gone again!" Felicity said. "Just like that. Walk in, place two winning bets, walk out a grand or two richer."

"Damn."

"Yup."

"Okay, now I'm all for investigating this guy," said Dig. "'Cause he's either a con artist or a genius or psychic or..."

"Or some weird combination of the above," Felicity agreed. "I wouldn't have thought it - he's got such a nice face."

"That would help with the con," Ollie pointed out.

"True."

* * *

Ollie gave up on sleep around 7:30 the next morning. He went to pick up some coffee and brought it back to Verdant, where he found Thea already at work.

"I had a hunch you'd be here. Want some coffee?"

"I had one, but I could use another."

Ollie handed her a lidded Styrofoam cup. "You changing the decor?"

"Mm-hm. Time for something new. Unless you don't want me to change it."

"No, change is good."

Thea sat on a stool at the bar and looked over a sample book. "I know cool people don't use wallpaper anymore, but... there are some amazing designs in here."

Looking over her shoulder, Ollie smiled, but it went away quickly. "Thea, can I talk to you?"

"We're talking now."

"I know, but... we haven't had a really good talk since I left."

"That's... 'cause you left."

"Yeah."

"What do you want me to say?"

Ollie leaned on the bar and looked up into his sister's face. _Say the right thing. Don't screw this up any more._ "Just... say you don't hate me?"

With a little sigh, Thea pushed her sample book away. "No, I don't hate you. You're my big brother and you always will be. There's a lot I still don't understand about you, and I'm not a hundred percent happy with you right now... Look, would I ask you to manage my club if I hated you?"

"Maybe. If you planned to make life hell for me as my boss."

She laughed. "I'll keep that as a backup plan."

"Well, 'forewarned, forearmed.'" Ollie braced himself for what he needed to say next. "Listen, I know you're not just mad about me taking off. You're mad because Mom told me Malcolm Merlin was your dad and I didn't tell you."

She looked tense, but she didn't interrupt.

"Mom and I were both afraid because learning something like that... there's no telling what it would do to you. I can see now that you're... dealing with it. I'm sorry I prejudged the situation. I thought I was doing the right thing to keep you from getting hurt. But it came out and you got hurt anyway, more because of the lying. So... I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wish I had."

Thea closed her eyes and two tears shot down her face. Ollie wanted to wipe them off but he wasn't sure she would want him to.

"Ollie..." Thea opened her eyes and reached for him.

He pulled her close and rubbed her back gently. "There's so much more you don't know... stuff about the island, and other things, too. Things I'm too scared to tell you about. Things that give me nightmares because I lived it, but they'd give you nightmares just hearing about it. I don't keep you in the dark because I don't trust you. It's because I don't trust anyone else. If there's any chance that telling you something could hurt you in some way, or make someone else want to hurt you because you know too much..."

"You make it sound like you're a CIA agent or something," Thea said softly.

 _That would be nice... then I'd have a license to kill._ "No such luck, I'm afraid."

"You don't have to be scared to tell me anything. I told you, you're my big brother. It'll be okay." She squeezed him.

"Maybe... in the long run. I want to tell you more, but... is it okay if I do it a little at a time? I don't think either of us can handle it all at once."

"Yeah."

"Okay." He gave her a return squeeze and then pulled away with a deep breath. "Is there anything you want help with here?"

"Nah. Well, if you could figure a way to get more space in the cellar... I don't understand why the storage is so small down there."

"Oh yeah... Tommy and I tried using the whole basement, but there was a thing with the foundation and then it ended up just being better to seal most of it off. I'll see if I can rearrange some things, though."

"Thanks. And thanks for the coffee."

* * *

 _Let's just add to the fibs, shall we Ollie? :p More about Gary next chapter._


	12. Green Around the Gills

_I'm starting to weave in a little bit of Arrow season 3 with my own twists to fit my AU. I'll try not to spoil any major plot points but no promises._

* * *

"MEOW."

Thwack!

Gary put a hand over his face. "I'm home in Chicago," he told himself. He moved his hand away and looked around. "No," he moaned when he saw the interior of his hotel room. "This isn't fair! I've done what I came here to do. Can't you get a 2015 person to cover Starling City? Why you gotta pick on me?"

He got up and retrieved the paper from the hallway. The cat ran inside, purring.

"Don't act so smug. How long am I supposed to stay here? Huh?" Gary flipped through the newspaper. Only two headlines looked like they needed his attention. "Okay. If I take care of these things, do I get to go home?"

"Mow."

"Can't blame me for trying."

As he set out, Gary tried to remember something. He'd had a case of déjà vu all through the car ride with the Queen siblings, and he was pretty sure he'd dreamed about it, too. Something about the Queens made him think about the newspaper, but that didn't seem quite right. Something about Ollie in particular made him think about the hostage situations he'd been in. Maybe it was just because he'd seen Ollie afterward on both occasions, but there was something else. Something... that he didn't have time for.

The first headline was a simple matter of distracting a man long enough for him not to be at a certain place at a certain time. The second turned out to be much more complicated than Gary had hoped...

* * *

"Hobson's talking to someone who doesn't seem to know him," Felicity reported when Ollie came into HQ around 9:30. "Nice of him to hang out in a spot with a one-frame-per-second web cam this time."

Ollie peered at the somewhat grainy but still visible image that updated every second. Gary was indeed engaging a middle-aged man in conversation. "Is this the guy from last night?"

"I don't know, but I don't think so. This guy looks shorter. I'll compare later to be sure."

The stranger looked a little confused; Gary looked earnest. The latter paused to look at something in the newspaper he was carrying and then went back to talking. The stranger shook his head and moved as if to leave. Gary put a hand on the man's arm and said something else. The man looked downright unnerved this time and said something angrily. He pulled away and stalked past Gary, who looked at his paper again. Then Gary sighed and walked in the other direction.

"What's with that newspaper?" Ollie rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. "Hey, can you look up footage of the attempted robbery at the jewelry store?"

"Pfft, 'can I?' he says," Felicity scoffed. "Just give me a second."

It was more like a minute, not a second, but Felicity hacked the security system easily enough.

"Here we go. Yesterday morning. That looks like Hobson standing outside the door, there."

Ollie leaned closer. "Has he got something in his back pocket?"

"Looks like it." Felicity skipped ahead until the would-be robber knocked Gary down. "That looked like it hurt. They're up... wish I had audio. I'd like to hear Hobson's hostage negotiation technique. The guy seems to be listening to him."

Gary's back was against the wall, so there was no view of his back pocket until Matson had him pick up the security guard's gun.

"There," Ollie said when Gary was stooping down. "Does that look like a newspaper to you?"

"Yeah... a rolled-up newspaper."

They watched some more footage.

"Your grand entrance," Felicity said with appreciation.

Ollie kept his eyes on Gary. Gary watched the Arrow in apparent shock for a moment before pulling the paper from his back pocket and taking a look at it. He seemed to relax as he put it away again.

"That's odd."

"Yeah. I just remembered: I think he had a newspaper with him at the school, too. It was sitting on his desk. I didn't pay any attention to it then. But last night he definitely had something hidden under his jacket, and it wasn't any sort of weapon I could identify. I think it was a rolled-up newspaper."

Felicity smirked. "At least we know he's keeping the city safe from naughty dogs."

"Very funny. There's got to be a connection."

"Code?" asked Dig.

The others hadn't noticed him come in, and they both jumped.

"Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt. Maybe there's a coded message in the newspaper."

Ollie nodded slowly. "That seems like a logical explanation... but even so, why would he have to decode something right then and there? why not wait until the crisis was over and he was well away from cops and the press?"

"That I can't tell you."

"What's he doing right now?" Ollie asked Felicity.

"Mm... looks like he's walking. If he stops, I'll get eyes on him."

"Okay. I'm going topside again, but text me a blow-by-blow."

"You got it."

* * *

Ollie was tempted to find Gary and tail him directly, but instead he went to find Thea again.

"How's the cellar?" Thea asked.

"Not perfect, but better," he answered. "Decided on paint or wallpaper?"

"What do you think about painting everything matte black and just having lots of neon green lights?"

Ollie looked around the empty club, picturing Thea's idea. "Or how about soft white lights with green glass filters?"

"Oh, that sounds pretty." Thea got busy on her laptop. "They'll have to be backed up by strobes, of course."

"I've been thinking about the house." It was abrupt, but tactfully bringing up subjects wasn't Ollie's strong suit.

Thea looked up with a frown, clearly caught off-guard. "Our house? The mansion? The one you haven't been sleeping in for weeks? Where do you sleep, anyway?"

Ollie didn't want to lie, but he couldn't say "in the cellar," so he hedged, "Places. The point is, neither one of us seems to like spending much time there."

"No..." Thea turned back to her laptop. "I was actually thinking I'd get an apartment when the club is running again."

"Me, too. I mean, I thought I'd want to stay someplace else, and that you might, too."

She didn't look up again. "You have someplace in mind?"

"Not yet, but we could look together. If you want."

She stopped clicking, and her eyes focused on something far away. "Let me think about it a while. I've never really lived on my own before. I was kind of looking forward to it."

Ollie nodded. _Of course. That makes sense._ "Sure. I understand. But, uh... living on your own kinda sucks after a while, just so you know."

Finally, she looked at him again. "This isn't an island, Ollie. And we don't have to live together to see each other, okay?"

"I know."

"But I will think about it."

"Okay."

Ollie's phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to read a text from Felicity: _H traveling by car._ He quickly replied, _OK._

"Any big plans for today?" Thea asked.

"No. Thought I might see if Gary's still in town, though."

"I hope he didn't have to leave. It was fun hanging out with him."

"Yeah."

"Did you ever figure out which school you were at with him?"

"Uh, I think it was Notre Dame."

"Short-lived friendship, huh? You were only there a month."

"I was there a whole semester! Well, I would have been if they hadn't kicked me out right before finals."

"Okay, sorry. Must have been USC you were only at for a month."

"It was UCLA."

"I'm surprised you can remember them all."

"So am I, to be honest."

* * *

Later, Ollie got the message that Gary had stopped at a hardware store. He used the back entrance to return to HQ without Thea asking what he was up to.

"He's talking to some guys about a drill," Dig said as Ollie joined him and Felicity. "He looks nervous."

"FYI, I hope you appreciate this... rather grainy feed," said Felicity. "The security system is on a closed network - it has an _intranet_ with no internet access. I had to hack a nearby business and remotely hack into the intranet from there." She looked up at the others, who were exchanging looks. "I might as well not have spoken. You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?"

Ollie patted her shoulder. "I vaguely know what you're talking about, but not necessarily how difficult that is... but we do appreciate it."

The quality of the hardware store's security feed was indeed poor, but Ollie was familiar enough with Gary's frame by now to easily pick him out, and the newspaper in his back pocket left no room for doubt.

A salesman was attaching a drill bit to the cordless drill in his hand - an action that seemed to agitate Gary. The customer who seemed interested in the drill was eying Gary as if he had no idea what to make of him, and the salesman looked extremely annoyed. Conversation became more and more tense until Gary actually reached out to take the drill.

"Oh," Felicity said in surprise.

Gary was actually fighting to get the drill away from the salesman, who was fighting back.

"What the hell?" Dig muttered.

Gary was obviously not trying to hurt the salesman. His fight strategy seemed to be based on avoiding violence to either himself or the man with whom he was struggling. Suddenly, all three men jumped, and Gary staggered back. Then there was panic. The salesman frantically helped a limping Gary to a chair behind the counter and yelled something at the customer.

"He's hurt," said Ollie.

"Did you see what happened?" asked Felicity.

"I think the bit flew off the drill and hit him in the leg," said Dig. "I didn't see it, but it looks like there's something in his leg, and I don't know what else it could be."

The customer was using the phone by the cash register.

"Looks like he's calling an ambulance," said Ollie. "Guess I'll have another excuse to see Hobson again - visiting my school chum in the hospital."

* * *

Ollie would have his excuse sooner than he expected. What he couldn't know from the poor quality of the security camera footage was that the bit had lodged in Gary's lower thigh toward the inside - and nicked his femoral artery.

Gary didn't know that yet either, but he knew he was bleeding and he needed to elevate the wound. When the salesman helped him into a chair, he crossed his injured right leg over his left knee and worked on breathing slowly.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," the salesman kept saying.

"Well... you didn't know."

"No, but I should have - you tried to tell me it was defective."

"No one lost an eye, at least," Gary said with a weak laugh, knowing that that was exactly what would have happened to the customer if he hadn't intervened.

"Should I pull it out?" the salesman asked, grimacing at the bit.

"No!" Gary said quickly. He knew enough about first aid to know that removing an object from a wound usually made the victim bleed faster and did much more harm than good unless it was done by professionals. "No, just... wait until help gets here. But maybe if you had something to wrap it with?"

The customer wasn't panicking as much as the salesman, but he did look a little green around the gills as he looked back at Gary and told the emergency dispatch operator, "He's bleeding a lot. We've got him sitting down. Yes. Okay. It's in his leg, a little above the knee."

Gary heard a rushing sound as if his ears were suddenly full of water. He realized he was as woozy as the customer, and in danger of fainting. _Relax. Stay calm._

The salesman returned with a package of shop rags and quickly popped it open to begin wrapping the rags around Gary's leg. Gary couldn't hear the customer clearly anymore, but he heard the salesman say, "Still with us?" He seemed to have calmed down a lot while getting the rags.

"Yeah... I'll be okay." Gary made an attempt to pull the paper out from under himself, but the office chair had little arms at the sides and his vision was blurry and he probably couldn't have read it anyway. He'd just have to trust that it would be all right.

"What's your name?"

"Gary... Hobson."

"Gary Hobson? I'm Jeff Dotey. Where are you from?"

"Chicago. Well... Hickory, Indiana. I live in Chicago."

"The windy city, huh? I'd like to see Chicago sometime. Tell me about it."

Gary lost track of what he was saying as the salesman kept him talking. At some point the first responders got there, but he was barely aware that it was someone new asking the questions.

"Do you know where you are? Do you have any family in Starling City? Who is your next of kin? Who should we contact?"

Somehow, Gary's slipping consciousness reminded him that he didn't have any contacts. All his friends and family were seventeen or eighteen years back in the past. If one of them were contacted now, in 2015, who knew what kind of trouble that would stir up? He realized that he had only one person he could ask for help right now. One friend in the world.

"Oliver... Oliver Queen."

* * *

 _Time to try reverse psychology: Don't leave a review. I don't want you to. It won't make me very happy.  
_

 _Did it work?_


	13. The Forest

_Team Arrow makes an unsettling discovery... Mention of Flash in this one. Might bring Barry in. Have a preference? Leave a comment. Even if you're reading this after the story is long finished, I would still like to get feedback.  
_

* * *

Ollie was trying to decide how long he should wait before he paid Gary a visit. He would have to have an excuse for finding out about the accident by chance. He kept the news on, hoping there would be some mention of the incident, but so far there was nothing.

"Hey, did the newspaper make it into the ambulance?" he asked Felicity.

"Lemme see..." Felicity went over the footage from the hardware store again, leaning toward her screen with concentration written all over her face. "Aha. It fell out of his pocket on the way out. Let's see what happens to it... Nothing, nothing... Here we go. The salesman picks it up and tosses it on the counter. And going to live feed... looks like it's still there."

"Okay. I'm going to head over there to see if I can pick it up without arousing any suspicion..."

"Don't be stupid," said Dig. "Oliver Queen in a hardware store? I'll go."

"Fine. Try not to let anyone notice you pick it up."

Ollie's phone buzzed.

"Hello?"

"Is this Oliver Queen?"

"Speaking."

"Mister Queen, this is Maggie at the Starling Hospital front desk. We've been trying to reach you because an emergency patient of ours named you next of kin. His name is Gary Hobson."

"Oh, my god," Ollie said, genuinely surprised. First, Gary's claiming him as next of kin was completely out of left field, and second, it sounded like the injury was much more serious than they had thought. "Is he all right?"

"He's had an accident. We've given him a blood transfusion and he's stable enough now to operate..."

"Operate?"

"...to repair his femoral artery. The doctor says he should come out of it fine, but you should be here when he wakes up."

"I'm on my way. Thank you." Ollie ended the call and grabbed his jacket off a chair.

"What's going on?" asked Felicity.

"The drill bit hit an artery... and Hobson named me next of kin. I need to get to the hospital now."

"He named you next of kin?!"

Ollie didn't wait for further discussion. He took his motorcycle out the secret back entrance, leaving the car for Dig to take to the hardware store.

 _Don't do something stupid like dying from a drill bit to the leg,_ Ollie thought at Gary as he wove through traffic. _You have to last at least long enough to tell me what the hell you're doing in my city._

* * *

When he got to the hospital, Gary was in surgery, so Ollie sat in a waiting room and texted Dig to see if he'd gotten the newspaper.

 _In store now,_ was Dig's reply. A couple of minutes later he sent another message. _Got it._

 _Take to Felicity,_ Ollie told him. Then he dialed Thea's cell.

"Hey, Ollie. What's up?"

"Well, it's weird, but... I'm at Starling General..."

"What happened?!"

"It's not me - I'm fine. Gary's had an accident."

"Gary?"

"Yeah. They think he's going to be okay, but they're operating on his leg right now."

"Should I come down there?"

"If you can spare the time, that would be nice."

"Okay. I'll lock up and come right over."

"Take your time and be safe."

"I will."

Minutes later, an orderly approached him. "Mister Queen?"

"Yes?" Ollie stood.

"Your friend is out of surgery and doing fine. He's in recovery now."

"Can I see him?"

"You can, but he's still under anesthesia. He'll come out of it soon. Just let him wake up on his own."

"Okay."

Ollie followed the orderly to the room Gary shared with another patient. He sat by Gary's bed and put his hand over Gary's, for the benefit of the orderly. A next of kin should show deep concern. Gary's hand was a little cool, and his face looked pale, but the machinery around him assured Ollie that the patient was in no danger now. A light sheet was drawn up to Gary's chest over his gown, so Ollie couldn't see the damaged area.

"If I could just have you sign a couple things?" the orderly said.

"Yes, of course."

"What is your relation to the patient?"

"Uh... no blood relation, to be honest. Let's say family friend. Gary doesn't have any family in Starling, so... I'm kind of responsible for him."

"And you're all right being medically responsible for him?"

"Absolutely." Ollie took a clipboard from the orderly and signed where he indicated.

"Can you tell me anything about that bandage on his neck?"

"A bullet grazed him two days ago. He was involved in the shooting over at Starling Tech. EMS treated him at the scene. You can check with officer Lance."

The orderly made a note. "By the way, does Gary drive?" the orderly asked.

"Um... I'm not sure. But he doesn't have a car in Starling."

"Well, before he drives in Chicago again, remind him to renew his license. It expired ten years ago."

"Damn. Uh... yeah, I'll remind him."

When the orderly left, Ollie put his hand back over Gary's even though there was no act to keep up now. He knew how scary it was to wake up in a strange place after being injured.

* * *

Gary felt like he was dreaming, but he wasn't sure he wanted to wake up. He was hurt in the dream, but what if he was hurt worse in real life?

 _"Gary, it's okay,"_ his mother's voice said.

 _"I'm sorry, Mom,"_ he answered, his voice sounding more like his younger self, ten or twelve years old.

 _"Oh, it's not your fault, sweetie. Don't worry. The doctor said you'd be just fine."_

 _"I'm here too, slugger."_

Gary could smell his father's aftershave, and it was comforting in its familiarity. _"_ _Dad?"_

 _"Everything's going to be all right."_

"Gary?"

Gary felt someone stroking his hand lightly. He opened his eyes and saw the white tiled ceiling of a hospital room. There really had been an accident, then.

"Gary," the voice repeated. "It's me, Ollie."

Gary blinked, a little confused. With some effort he turned his head to see Oliver Queen sitting by his bed. _Wow. They actually got hold of him... And he actually came._ Ollie's presence was very reassuring for some reason.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"We just can't keep you out of trouble, can we?"

Gary managed a weak smile. "Did I really get taken out by a drill bit?"

"Yup. They said it hit your femoral artery. Good thing they got you help quick, or you might not be waking up now."

"Wow." Gary thought about that for a little while. _After all the close shaves I've had, though... the paper wouldn't let me die now, would it? Not over something so stupid._ He noticed that Ollie was watching him very closely. "Thanks for coming."

Ollie grinned. "No problem. I was a little surprised to learn I'm your next of kin, but it's no trouble."

"Oh, uh... did I say that? I was kind of passing out at that point."

"Don't worry about it."

"You haven't done anything silly like paying my hospital bill, have you?"

"No. I'm sure they don't have your bill totaled up yet."

"Good. Because I'm fine for money."

"Okay. Thea's on her way."

"Really? You didn't have to call her."

"I knew she'd want to visit."

"I... I feel kind of embarrassed."

"Guess it's a good thing I didn't bring you flowers."

Gary didn't know what to do with that. He cleared his throat. "Did they say when I'll be able to leave?"

"No. We can call a nurse and see."

"That's okay. I'm not in a hurry... I think. Oh!"

The paper. Where was the paper? The hardware store was supposed to be the only serious thing left in the paper that day, but everything Gary did affected the people around him, and sometimes new crises would arise as he dealt with them.

"What is it?" Ollie asked.

"I, uh... I just remembered I think I left some stuff at the hardware store."

"Oh. Anything important?"

"Um... no, not very important. Well, maybe. I don't remember."

"Do you want me to go over there and see?"

"No," Gary decided. He couldn't be sure anyone would think a newspaper worth mentioning, and if they did he couldn't be sure Ollie wouldn't start reading it and discover the incorrect date. "No, that's okay. I shouldn't be worrying about stuff right now anyway, when I could have died." He laughed nervously.

"Exactly."

Thea arrived soon after that. It was nice, but a little awkward.

"Don't be silly," Thea reassured him when he told her she didn't have to interrupt her day for him. "Last night we had dinner with you and today you're in the hospital... it's crazy."

"Yeah... trouble kinda follows me around, I guess," Gary said sheepishly.

"Once you've been in Starling a while, you'll see that it follows a lot of people here."

The siblings visited a while longer; then Thea said she should get back to her preparations for the club's remodel. Ollie didn't stay long after that, but he did promise to come back in the morning, to see if Gary could be discharged and, if so, to drive him back to the hotel.

"You guys have been really nice to me," Gary said. "I really appreciate it."

"It's no trouble," Ollie answered. "Thea and I like you a lot. We'd like it if you stuck around. Should I swing by the hotel tomorrow and pick up some clothes for you?"

"That would be great. I'll call and tell them to expect you."

"All right." Ollie got up and patted Gary's shoulder. "Get some rest, okay?"

"I will. Thanks again."

"You're welcome. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Ollie didn't waste time texting Felicity back. He rushed as fast as his motorcycle could carry him back to Verdant.

"Figured out why the paper's important?" he asked eagerly, as soon as he was inside.

"Maybe," Felicity said. "It's weird, like I said in my text. I think we couldn't see the forest for the trees."

"Meaning?"

"We were so focused on Hobson's odd behavior, on our own theories - is it a code, is Hobson getting ideas from the newspaper and setting up copy-cat situations - we didn't stop to consider that the paper _itself_ is manipulating the situation."

"How do you mean?"

Felicity held up a finger to put Ollie's question on hold. "We've been comparing stories to other newspapers, and no one else is covering these stories - not even the Sentinel itself, but this _is_ the Sentinel. So I thought maybe it was an old issue and I looked at the date..."

"It's dated tomorrow," Dig said, not patient enough to let Felicity get there on her own.

"What... does that mean?" Ollie asked slowly. "Is this a mockup for tomorrow's paper?"

"That would be a nice, easy, non-supernatural explanation..."

Baffled, Ollie turned back to Felicity. "What's he talking about?"

"Look at page three."

Ollie flipped the page of the newspaper, which was spread on a table. "What am I looking for?"

"'Freak Accident at Johnson's Hardware,'" Felicity supplied.

Ollie found the headline and began reading the story aloud. "'An ordinary day of sales turned to a bloody frenzy at Johnson's Hardware store on fifth and Sedgewick yesterday when a bit flew off the power drill being demonstrated by manager Howard Nichols. The bit's housing failed at high velocity, sending a sharp and compact metal missile flying across the room...'" Ollie looked up. "Okay, this is weird."

"Keep going."

Ollie skimmed a little of the colorful journalism and picked out the important parts. "Blah-blah... 'Lodged in the leg of a stranger who came upon the demonstration by chance. "He tried to warn me," said Nichols. "I couldn't believe some guy off the street knew more about my product than I did. I should have listened." The intervening stranger, whose name is unknown, was rushed to Starling General to be treated for a damaged artery.' This is _exactly_ what happened to Gary."

"It _is_ what happened to Gary. That's him. And when did we start calling him by his first name?"

"I'm his 'next of kin' ...referring to him by last name seems weird now." Ollie shrugged. "But he had this paper when he went into the hardware store. This exact paper. It hadn't happened yet."

"And that's where it gets spooky."

"And that's why I think we might need backup," said Dig.

"Think I should call in Roy and Sara?" asked Ollie.

"Definitely Roy, and maybe Sara. But I was thinking more... Barry."

"Oh." Ollie had seen Barry Allen only once since the young genius had come out of his coma. The meeting had been a positive one, and Ollie didn't dislike the thought of working with Barry again, but it seemed early to call him in.

"I gotta agree," said Felicity. "But not Star Labs. We don't know what we're dealing with, so... only someone we're sure we can trust."

"Let me think about it a little while. First, I think we should test the theory that this is a future-telling paper."

"How do we do that?"

Ollie flipped a few pages, looking for something with a specific time stamp on it. "Here, this might work." He pointed out a story in the local section. "There's a concert for this obnoxious 'Swingin' Seth' character..."

"I wanted to go to that," Felicity said suddenly, as if just remembering. Then, seeing the others' looks, she added, "What? He may be a pompous nut job, but his music's catchy!"

"Anyway... the article says that some people start an impromptu dance and kind of steal the show from Seth."

"And that will happen tonight?" Dig asked.

"If the date on this paper is correct."

"Let's check it out," Felicity urged.

"Are you eager because you want to see Swingin' Seth up close?" Ollie asked suspiciously.

"No! Well... maybe. Partially."

"Whatever. Come on, Smoothy Smoak."

"Oh, I'm not gonna live this down, am I? Darn it, darn it, darn it!"

"Nope."

* * *

 _To be continued. Now, let me hear a peep from you. Just a line or two. If reviews were food, my readers would let me starve to death._


	14. Camouflage

_OMG someone else commented! I have two whole reviews now! Thank you, thelastsamoan!_

 _Gary and Ollie have some tricky interaction... in more ways than one._

* * *

Gary was surprised at how easily he had fallen asleep again, and that he slept through the night. He supposed he could thank his IV drip for that. When he woke up, his roommate said something to him, and he took a good look at him for the first time.

"It's you," Gary said in surprise. "Doctor Cleveland!"

"That's right," the teacher said. "I didn't expect to see you here, either."

"Well, I'm glad to see you're in recovery."

"Yes. I was under for a long time and then critical most of yesterday, from what they told me. Only really woke up for the first time this morning, and again when they brought you in, but I didn't realize it was you. What happened to you?"

Gary briefly explained, downplaying the bizarre nature of his injury.

"I guess your trip got delayed, then," Cleveland said.

"My trip?"

"Yes. You told me you'd been busy preparing to go out of town, and that was why you had neglected to arrange to audit my class."

Gary had completely forgotten about this lie... he told so many fibs in order to help people and camouflage his secret that he hardly remembered any of them. "Oh, yeah. I'll be in Starling longer than I thought. But it's okay. What with everything that happened... well, I think these things happen for a reason, don't you?"

"I'm inclined to think so, too. Now, anyway. You did an admirable job of keeping Mike calm and helping to talk him out of killing anyone - I can't imagine how the day might have gone if you hadn't been there."

"I'm glad I could help, but please don't be offended if I don't audit any more classes for a while."

"I won't." Cleveland smiled and then looked at the floor between their beds. "By the way, do you know anything about that cat?"

"Cat?" Gary followed Cleveland's gaze. Sitting on a newspaper on the floor was a ginger cat. "Oh. That cat."

"I wondered if it was a therapy pet that went AWOL on its visitation rounds."

Gary thought about pretending he didn't know the cat, but he decided he'd told enough lies lately, and that honesty might be safer for now. "Actually, that's my cat," he said. "Don't ask me how he got in here... but he's always waiting for me to get my paper in the morning. I didn't know he'd do the same thing here."

"That's some serious dedication. I'd expect something like that from a dog, but a cat? Who delivered the paper?"

"I wish I knew," Gary muttered. "I mean, uh... I don't know. Someone must have brought it when we were asleep."

"You have some very thoughtful friends."

"Yeah, guess so. Too bad they weren't thoughtful enough to put the paper where I could reach it."

"Call the nurse."

"She'll have a fit over the cat... they don't tend to allow pets in the hospital."

"Mrow." The cat scurried under Gary's bed.

Cleveland laughed. "Smart cat."

"Too smart sometimes," Gary said, pressing a button at the side of his bed.

The nurse who responded to the call gave Gary a mystified look when he told her what he wanted, but she gave him the paper without asking any questions.

"So, any good headlines?" Cleveland asked when the nurse was gone.

Gary scanned the paper as quickly as he dared. "Nothing too... spectacular," he muttered as he turned pages. Then spotted a story that gave him the uneasy feeling that it would require his attention. The wall clock said it was 9:45. "Oh, I need to get released soon... before noon, if possible."

"Injuries don't tend to cater to one's schedule, I'm afraid."

"No, I know, but... this is kind of important."

"Big meeting today or something?"

"Uh, no..." Gary frowned. He didn't like being rude to his roommate, but he couldn't very well explain himself. "Let's just say I gotta see a man about a dog."

Cleveland chuckled. "Does it have anything to do with your cat?"

"My cat? Oh..." He had been taken off guard, but he realized that the teacher was only joking. He laughed his nervous laugh. "Yeah... something like that."

Fortunately, it was then that Gary's doctor, Doctor Sanders, came in with Oliver Queen. Ollie greeted Cleveland and wished him a speedy recovery.

"Am I well enough to leave yet?" Gary asked the doctor urgently.

Sanders pulled the privacy curtain around Gary's bed. "Let's have a look."

"I brought your clothes," Ollie called from the other side of the curtain.

"Great. Thank you." Gary watched Sanders with concern while the doctor examined his leg.

Sanders slid his hands under Gary's knee and lifted gently. "Does it hurt when your knee bends?"

It did, but no more than before. "No, not really."

"Any stiffness?"

"A little."

"Pins and needles?"

"No. Just sore."

Sanders opened a box he had brought in with him and produced a small pair of scissors with which he cut away the bandage on Gary's leg. "The stitches look good. I'm going to put a fresh bandage on this. Now, you shouldn't put your full weight on it, understand? That means you should use a cane for a while, and absolutely no running."

"For how long?"

"That depends on how well you follow orders. You need to get lots of rest. I'll give you a prescription for antibiotics to protect you from infection, and a painkiller if you think you need it. If you promise to be careful and take your medicine, I'll sign your release form."

"I promise," Gary said quickly.

"All right." Sanders started to re-bandage the wound. "I'll give you a call in a couple of days to see how you're doing and set up an appointment to remove the stitches."

"Sounds good."

Soon Sanders was finished and all that remained was to get dressed and check out.

Gary fumbled with the clothes Ollie had brought him, wrestling into his undershirt first. Then he shrugged on the blue plaid shirt he'd been wearing when he first arrived in Starling - someone had washed it. He then stared at the socks, boxers and jeans. This was a problem.

He sat on the edge of the bed and drew his left leg up until he could put on a sock. So far, so good. He put his foot back down and started to lift his right leg. "Ow, ow, ow..."

"Gary," Ollie called, "are you okay?"

"Um... yeah." Gary tried leaning down to put the sock on his right foot and nearly fell off the bed. "Damn," he muttered quietly.

"Do you need a hand?"

"No," he wanted to say. But it wasn't true. This just wasn't going to happen without help. He pulled the discarded hospital gown over his lap. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Okay, I'm coming in." Ollie cautiously drew the curtain back enough to step through and then closed it behind him.

"It's just that one sock... and then if you can get me started on the boxers and pants, I can get them up on my own." It felt very awkward to say that, much less think about Ollie actually doing it. He expected the other man to react with nervousness or distaste, but neither was apparent.

"Sure," Ollie said, taking the troublesome sock and kneeling to put it on Gary's foot. "There you go. Next."

Only slightly less mortified than before, Gary passed his boxers to Ollie, and the latter pulled them up to Gary's knees. Last came the jeans, which Ollie carefully worked at until he got both cuffs past Gary's heels.

"Okay, you got it from here?"

"Yeah. Sorry..."

Ollie shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It's no trouble." He stepped back through the curtain as if it were so much fog.

Gary knew he was blushing. He supposed Ollie must not have a normal sense of awkwardness... or maybe he was just taking this "next of kin" thing very seriously. He got up carefully and pulled up bis boxers and then his jeans. He felt much better once he was securely inside his clothes.

"Hey, Ollie, could you help me with my shoes?" he called.

"Absolutely." Ollie came back through the curtain and got Gary's shoes from the rolling table by his bed. He knelt again and painstakingly laced up Gary's shoes for him. He chuckled quietly.

The laugh was almost a relief - Gary had been waiting for some sign that Ollie was human and also felt the awkwardness of the moment. "What is it?" he asked.

"It's just that I haven't tied someone else's shoes since my sister was little."

"Oh. Heh." It wasn't exactly what he'd expected.

"There. Too tight?"

Gary shook his head. "They're perfect. Thank you."

"All right. Let's get you out of here."

"Okay. Oh, um... could you make sure nothing fell down under the bed?"

Ollie leaned down and took a look. "Nothing there."

"Really? Okay..." _Where the hell did you go, Cat?_ "Well, let's go." Gary picked up his newspaper, rolled it up tightly and put it in his back pocket. He said goodbye to Dr. Cleveland and, with the aid of his new cane, followed Ollie out of the room.

A few minutes later, they were in Ollie's car - for the first time without Diggle.

"I'll take you to get your prescriptions filled," Ollie said as he steered the car out of the hospital parking lot.

"Okay. Thanks a lot. You've really been a life-saver."

"Nah, not me," Ollie said lightly. "Where do you want to go after that?"

"Back to the hotel, I guess."

"Okay."

Ollie didn't say much on the drive to the pharmacy, and it made Gary nervous. When they were standing around waiting for Gary's prescriptions, he tried to get Ollie talking.

"So, I think my medical insurance will reimburse me once I send in some paperwork," he lied, knowing he could get the money by using the paper if he had to.

"That's good," Ollie said, his tone interested, but his gaze far-off. It was weird how he did that so easily. "Listen, I've been thinking about the Victoria..."

"Oh... you have?"

"It seems silly for you to be living in a place like that when you have an old school chum in town. Thea and I have this huge house that we hardly spend any time in, and there are lots of extra rooms, and we may be living in a different place soon, anyway. You should stay there."

The surprises seemed not to plan on stopping anytime soon. Gary didn't know how to respond. "Uh... that's nice of you..."

"It wouldn't be any trouble at all. We've had to let the servants go, of course, but once you get used to the size of the place it's pretty nice..."

"What would Thea say?"

"Psh, Thea will love having you there. And I'd like to know someone else is there, especially if I'm out late. You're an early riser, right?"

"Well, yeah..."

"That works out. I'm a night owl."

"But..."

"Dig can drive you around, too... since you don't have a valid driver's license."

"What?"

"They told me at the hospital - your license expired. Ten years ago."

Realization hit Gary, and he had to fight to get a neutral expression back. "Oh... oh, geez. I must have grabbed my old one by mistake before I left home. I shouldn't keep them in the same place."

"They look that much alike?"

"That's Illinois for you. They don't change anything they don't have to," Gary said with a laugh he didn't feel. "And people say I haven't changed much either. They always say I look just the same, no matter how much time goes by..." _I need to shut up now._

Gary was glad when the pharmacist called his name. He paid for the medicine and they headed back outside.

"You should probably pop some of those right away," Ollie advised. "The stuff they had you on at the hospital will probably wear off soon. I've got some water in the car."

"Okay." Gary took Ollie's advice and took two pills - one antibiotic and one for pain - as soon as he'd glanced over the instructions that came with them.

"So, what do you think?" Ollie asked as he maneuvered out of the parking lot.

A little confused, Gary asked, "About what?"

"Staying at the Queen mansion."

"The Queen - oh! Um... I don't know."

"Seriously, it's no trouble. It'll be just like the hotel... only no bill and no room service. I'd say that's fair, wouldn't you?"

"Well... I guess I could..."

"Great. Let's go get your stuff."

This was so sudden. It would be nice not living in a hotel (again!), but Gary didn't know what to make of Ollie's enthusiastic hospitality. Still, there was something about him... every time he was around, Gary got the idea that he was with someone who wouldn't let anything bad happen to him. Someone who would protect him at his own risk. _Which doesn't make any sense!_ he thought to himself. _Ollie doesn't seem like that type, and even if he were, we barely know each other!_

Besides all this, he still had to figure out how to take care of the paper without making Ollie suspicious. This was going to be tricky. Gary didn't like tricky. _I'm gonna kill that cat._

* * *

Ollie didn't worry about what Gary thought of him at the moment. Things were going pretty well. While Gary packed up his few belongings at the Victoria, Ollie sent Felicity a text.

 _Gary coming 2 stay Q mansion. Has another paper._

Soon, he got a reply: _Good work. Can u read it?  
_

 _N. In his pocket._ Ollie didn't care to stare in the general direction of Gary's back pocket. Gary might realize he was trying to read the paper, and if he didn't, the alternative wasn't a conclusion Ollie particularly wanted him to draw, either. Although, he would go to some pretty bizarre lengths to get this thing figured out, truth be told.

 _OK keep posted._

 _Will do._ Ollie put his phone away as Gary came toward him with his overstuffed garment bag. "Ready to go?"

"Guess so. Just have to check out at the desk."

Ollie took the heavy garment bag from Gary. "Take it easy on that leg, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Ollie guided Gary through the hallways and held the lobby door open for him. As he passed, Ollie contemplated lifting the newspaper, but he would likely get a much better opportunity to look at it later, so he bided his time. Soon they were on their way again.

 _This paper could be the biggest thing I've encountered in my life. The most powerful. Maybe the most dangerous. I have to make sure it's in good hands._

* * *

 _Looks like Team Arrow has a good idea what they're up against now - Gary doesn't have a clue! ...or does he? *evil laugh* Commenting time. Even if the story has been complete for five years, I'd still like to hear from you.  
_


	15. The Hunter

_Thanks, Kent Uckey! I'll try for you!  
_

 _Thanks, Jake W! I'm glad you're enjoying it. ^_^ The Flash is in this chapter, so no need to wait for a sequel.  
_

* * *

It had been quite a night, and an eventful morning as well. Felicity did not feel rested, but there was no way she could have slept in even given the opportunity. Gary's newspaper had been correct - the impromptu dancing at the concert had gotten more applause than Swingin' Seth, annoying the singer a good deal.

For no apparent reason, Ollie had grabbed a girl from the crowd and joined in the dancing. Swing dancing wasn't Ollie's strong suit, but his local fame kept the crowd enthusiastic. The cheering grew only louder, even though Ollie's style didn't match the music very well.

When the song ended, Ollie returned to the others.

"What was that?" Dig asked.

"Just a hunch," said Ollie. "We know that this paper tells what will happen, so I wanted to see if we could affect it."

In a moment of clarity, Felicity exclaimed, "Oh, so we might be able to change these predictions. Whoever's setting them up to come true, he or she might have to work around you, in which case, this version of tomorrow's paper won't match up when it's..." she trailed off as she skimmed over the Swingin' Seth story for the tenth time. "Wait. This... wasn't here before."

"What wasn't?"

"Your name. Look."

Ollie and Dig looked over her shoulders at the small text she was pointing out.

 _"...Oliver Queen was spotted among the revelers. This is the first documented sighting of the Queen heir at an informal social function since the death of his mother..."_

"It changed," Felicity said quietly, desperate to know what her companions were thinking. "The paper changed in my hands. I swear this wasn't here before!"

"We need to get back to Verdant," said Ollie.

"Copy that," said Dig. "Let's go."

"Oh, my god," Felicity muttered. She repeated the line over and over on the way back to Verdant.

Now, some twelve hours later, she still felt overwhelmed at what they had learned.

"So, what's going on?" asked Barry Allen, who had just arrived with his own private gust of wind. "Your text said something about a scary, magical newspaper?"

"I said 'spooky, magical newspaper,'" Felicity corrected. "And it's true! Tell him," she appealed to Dig.

Dig offered the paper to Barry. "See this?"

Barry took it. "Starling Sentinel..."

"Today's, right?"

"Yeah."

"Near as we can tell, that paper came into Gary Hobson's possession yesterday."

"And..."

"It arrived a day early," said Roy. He and Sarah had been briefed the night before. The Black Canary wasn't present, but she was ready to assist if the others called her in. "Everything the paper said came true, as far as we can tell."

"And when Oliver went to the site of a headline as the action was going down," Felicity said, turning the paper's pages for Barry until she got to the right spot, "he got himself worked into the story. There was no mention of Ollie before we went there."

"So, the paper... for lack of a better word, 'magically' changed?" Barry asked.

"Yup."

"And now Hobson has another paper," Dig went on. "We haven't had a close look at it yet, but we believe it's tomorrow's paper."

"Where is he now?"

"He's with Oliver, on his way to the Queen mansion."

"Oliver invited Gary to stay there," said Felicity. "He's kinda become buddies with him... full story later... the point is, he's persuaded him to stay in this mansion where there are a million security cameras _everywhere,_ so if he opens that paper in there at all, I should be able to get a good look at it from one of the cameras."

Barry frowned. "What do you need me for?"

"First, _hello_ \- spooky magic newspaper?"

Barry laughed and high-fived her.

"Second, and perhaps more importantly," Roy said sarcastically, "you might be able to take the paper, read the whole thing and put it back before Hobson even knows you're in the room."

"True..."

"But it would be good if he had no clue you were even around," said Felicity. "For now we're just waiting to see what he does. Is he good or evil? Is he the hunter or the hunted? Is he..."

"When we know what his agenda is, we'll decide what to do about it," Dig interrupted.

"Sounds good. In the meantime... anyone else hungry?"

Barry was always hungry, unless he had some of Cisco's specially formulated rations on hand.

Felicity got out her wallet. "Here, get us all some pizza. I'll fix you up something special soon, okay?"

"You don't have to go to any trouble," Barry said.

"It's a fair trade for you running errands and otherwise saving us time."

"If you put it like that. Back in a flash." Barry scintillated out of the basement.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to that," Roy commented.

* * *

"Thanks for all your help," Gary told Ollie. "I'll settle in later. Right now I need to get uptown... by way of the highway."

"Oh? What's up?" Ollie knew it must have to do with the paper, but he feigned ignorance.

"I, um... I'll explain on the way."

 _Stalling for time. If I were the Oliver Queen of seven years ago, I might buy it._

Ollie obligingly drove Gary out to the highway and headed for the uptown exit. Gary did none of the promised "explaining on the way." Before he reached the exit, Gary commanded,

"Stop the car."

"What? What's wrong?"

"See that car by the side of the highway?"

"Yeah?"

"Pull in behind it."

"Okay..." Ollie put on his signal and slowed to a stop. "Gary, what is it?"

Not bothering to answer, or even wait until the car was in park, Gary flung his door open and pulled himself out of it.

"Gary, your leg!" As Ollie watched in fascination, Gary hobbled to a man who was leading a dog beside the highway. He got out of the car and followed several paces behind.

"Excuse me," Gary shouted.

The man with the dog looked a little perturbed. "Yeah?"

"Are you John Roland?"

"Yes?"

"Someone told me you didn't want your dog anymore... is that the one?"

"Yes," Roland said again, seeming more surprised than ever. "This is Max. You want him?"

"Oh, I'd love to have him," Gary said heartily. "He's just the kind of dog I want."

"He's diabetic."

"I know, but... just look at him! He is free for the taking, right?"

"Sure. I'll throw in the leash and collar."

"That's really swell of you. Can I take him now?"

"He's all yours."

Ollie realized his mouth had fallen open as he watched the stranger pass his dog's leash to Gary, who shook the former owner's hand and limped back to Ollie's car with "Max" in tow.

"What the hell...?" Ollie asked.

"I hope you don't mind," Gary said apologetically.

"You're in town on business, you get injured, and suddenly you're chasing down unwanted dogs? What's up with you?"

"Well, he was going to kill him."

"What?"

They got into the car - all three of them.

"Yeah, he was planning to shove Max out into traffic."

"What makes you think that?" Ollie asked skeptically.

"Um... someone told me."

"Who?"

"An acquaintance of this guy, Roland... he said he was planning to take his dog to the uptown highway and shove him out in traffic to get rid of him. 'Cause he was sick of him, and 'cause he cost too much to take care of."

"And you decided to take it on yourself to rescue poor old Max?"

"Well, he could have caused a really bad accident. People could have been killed."

"Is that the whole reason we came up here?"

"Uh... yeah... that - that was it."

Ollie looked back at the collie mix in his backseat. "And you really wanna keep this mutt?"

"Heck, no. Where's the nearest shelter?"

Ollie laughed. "I think I know of one near here."

* * *

After telling the staff at the animal shelter the strange tale of Max's near-demise, Gary handed the dog over to a volunteer and Ollie signed a few forms.

"Do you want to be notified if Max is adopted or if he is about to be put down?" the desk worker asked.

"Um..." Ollie looked questioningly at Gary, who shrugged. "You can notify me." He filled in his contact information on the form of surrender. "Just try to find him a good home. And make sure the prospective owner knows about his diabetes right away, so this doesn't happen again."

"We'll do our best."

Back in the car, Ollie said, "So, you saved a few lives today... do you do that very often?"

Gary laughed a nervous-sounding laugh. "Oh, well... I just try to live each day one at a time, you know? And do all I can in that day... live life to the fullest."

"Is that your life motto?"

"Sounds kind of cheesy, huh?"

"No, I like it. So, what do we do now?"

"Well, I don't know of anything else urgent today..." Gary nonchalantly got out his newspaper and browsed its pages.

"Good. Because I really think you should stay off that leg. I've got Netflix and an obscene number of blu-rays at home, so you can just chill and have fun, okay?"

"Um, okay."

At the Queen mansion, Ollie set Gary up with the big-screen TV, pizza and Coke. They watched half of Batman Begins ("How have you never seen this?!") and then Gary paused the movie to go use the bathroom. As soon as he was out of the room, Ollie texted Felicity.

 _Send Barry._

He'd scarcely sent the text before the red streak was in the room, and the Flash snatched up Gary's newspaper off the couch. Ollie still felt amazed at what Barry could do, in spite of having seen him in action before. While reading and flipping pages, Barry was emitting a strange, high-pitched squeaking sound that Ollie thought was familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. When the newspaper hit the couch again, it was smoking slightly.

"Sorry," the Flash said sheepishly.

"Never mind, just get back to Verdant."

The Flash saluted and took off again. When Gary got back, he had no idea that anyone else had been there.

* * *

"What was that noise?" Felicity asked as the Flash made his way back through town.

"What noise?" the Flash asked.

"When you had the paper."

"Oh, that!" He laughed, and the laugh sounded high and squeaky, rather like the very noise Felicity was asking about. "I was reading aloud."

"You were... reading the paper at high speed?"

"Yeah. I figured I couldn't remember everything in it, but I knew you were recording..."

"You're a genius!"

"I know."

"Why is he a genius?" Roy asked. He and Diggle were used to being slow to understand some of Felicity's and Barry's ideas, but it didn't make them more patient.

"He read the paper out loud. If I slow down the recording, we can listen to the whole thing at our leisure."

"By the way," the Flash added, "it takes a ridiculous amount of concentration to run like this at super speed and still talk to you in normal time."

"Huh. I never thought of that."

The Flash zipped into headquarters then, and removed his mask. "I was thinking, the main thing we need to know now is how Gary gets the paper."

"Why?" asked Dig.

"Because he doesn't seem to be doing anything dangerous with it - the least benevolent thing he did that we know of was win some horse racing bets. So, he doesn't seem dangerous for now, but we need to know who else knows what will happen before it happens. Who provides the information?"

"Good point," Felicity agreed, "but we know the paper can change without anyone doing anything to it physically. What if the paper is just... magic?"

Barry smiled at her skeptically. "I'd find that hard to accept."

"Well, I guess it makes sense to find out where it comes from, but when you read it over was there anything about this dog Gary rescued?"

"Nope. Not that I remember."

"So, if the paper is what sent him there, saving the dog got rid of the story."

"Seems like it."

* * *

Felicity and the others went over the recording of Barry reading the paper while Ollie entertained his guest. After supper Ollie invited Gary to go to Verdant with him, but Gary declined, saying he wanted to get to bed early.

Under the club, Ollie joined his team. "So," he said in greeting, "anything interesting in the paper?"

"There's only one story that seems like it needs preventive action," said Felicity. "There's a little boy that locks himself in a closet. His mom thinks he's out playing with friends and she goes out to find him. By the time she gets someone to force the door open, the kid's suffocated."

"When does that happen?"

"He should be in the closet by now," said Dig. "His mom will go out looking for him any time now."

"This," said Barry, turning a computer screen toward Ollie, "is the feed of the Queen mansion's outdoor security cameras. As you can see, your guest is getting into a cab, even though he told you he'd be turning in early."

"Dollars to doughnuts he's going to that house," said Felicity. "Just in case, Black Canary is over there already, keeping an eye on things."

Ollie watched Gary's taxi drive away. After that they had to rely on one of the tracking devices Ollie had planted to tell them where Gary was.

"I wish we could watch the paper change," Barry said, as Gary's dot indicator got closer to the street mentioned in the paper.

"I wish we could hear what he says to anyone that sees him going into a random house and trying to open all the closets," said Roy.

Felicity picked up her phone. "Black Canary says Gary's at the house." A moment later, she said, "He's going in a window."

"Who doesn't lock their windows in a town like this?" Dig muttered.

"She can hear him calling the kid's name. The suspense is killing me."

Ollie kept silent. _I should have stayed with him. We might have left sooner... he'd make some lame excuse. I could have helped him._

"How long has he been in there?" Barry asked.

Felicity glanced at her computer's clock. "About five minutes."

"He'll have found the right closet by now," said Dig.

"I just thought of something," said Roy. "What if Gary just does whatever the paper says?"

"What do you mean?" asked Ollie.

"What if he's not trying to change things - what if he's fulfilling them?"

"What are you saying?" asked Felicity. "You think he went in there to finish that kid off? Smother him?"

"I don't think so, but... it's just something we haven't considered."

"Either way, this is taking too long," Ollie said, not caring to indulge Roy's idea any further. "Tell Black Canary to go inside. He might need some help."

Felicity sent the message and soon got a reply. "She's going in."

There was nothing more for at least three minutes. Ollie felt impatient, but he refused to show it.

"Mission accomplished," Felicity said at last, and the group collectively sighed. "Canary's heading back here."

"Oh, good," said Barry. "I hate waiting. Waiting is a hundred times worse when you're used to speeding things up..."

"Yeah, poor you," said Dig.

Ollie tuned them out. It looked like everything was fine.

The Black Canary briefly told them about going inside the house and helping Gary to pry the closet door open. Gary had of course asked who she was and what she was doing there, but she responded only with, "I could ask you the same thing." After that they had a sort of truce until the door was open. Canary quickly checked the boy's vitals and told Gary that although he had passed out, he should wake up soon. She advised him to tell anyone who asked that he had heard the boy shouting for help. Then she made her exit.

"Not my most impressive night's work by a long shot," she concluded, "but very satisfying."

"Good work," Ollie told her. "Now we can focus on figuring out where the paper comes from."

"I'll leave that to you. If you need my help again, I'm available, but this is your magic paper, not mine. I think I'd better stay out of it if I can."

"Understood."

He let her leave without any further discussion. He had found that the less they tried to talk, the less likely he was to screw things up with her. Their relationship was strange and still a little uncomfortable.

"So, it looks like Gary isn't really the hunter or the hunted," Felicity concluded. "He's more of a... do-gooder? What's that make him, Friar Tuck?"

"I think we all know the 'hunter' position is taken," Roy said, giving Ollie a significant look.

"And speaking of the Arrow," said Ollie, "I think it's time he paid Gary another visit."

"Don't scare him," Felicity advised. "For all we know, we're all on the same side. We don't want him skipping town."

"Eh, I won't scare him," Ollie said, heading for the case where he kept his dark green costume. "I'm just gonna... you know, let myself in his bedroom window, ask him where he gets his magic paper, and let him go back to sleep. Piece of cake."

* * *

 _I'm so psyched that I got three reviews since last time! Thanks! Please continue to comment. ^_^_


	16. Sushi

_It's been a few months but I haven't completely forgotten this story. Just very busy now, and likely to be for a while. I'll try to steal some moments to work on this now and then._

 _BTW the last five chapter titles had something to do with the color green. So sneaky._

 _Thanks for your review, WolfDaughter! Just the kind of review I like: where you tell me what you like. ^_^_

 _I originally planned something different for this chapter, but I was away too long and lost my document. I think this works better though, and I'll use some of my previous ideas for the next chapter. For now, enjoy another creepy visit and then an easy-going day with Ollie and Gary._

* * *

Gary was a sound sleeper. It took as long to wake him up the second time as it had the first.

"You're not big on knocking, are you?" Gary mumbled as he scooped his pillows together to prop himself up.

"Sorry, but it's extremely risky for me to make house calls during the day," the Arrow said. "I wanted to ask you something about your morning paper."

He couldn't see Gary's face clearly, but he thought he stiffened a little. "What about the paper?"

"I already know that it comes a day early."

"A day early?"

"You're a bad liar, and you're worse at playing dumb, so don't insult my intelligence. Today you read about a boy accidentally shutting himself in a closet and suffocating. But you went to his house and helped get him out. You saved his life."

"How... how did you know that was in the paper?"

"That's not important. What I want to know is: who sends it to you?"

"I don't know."

"You've been getting this paper a long time. You're trying to tell me you never found out who sent it to you, even after years of playing the Good Samaritan?"

"You say I'm a bad liar - am I lying now? I don't know who sends it. Sure, I got curious, but I never really tried to find out. My friend did. He used to lie in wait, trying to catch whoever delivered it. But even after all these years, I still don't know. All I know is, when I wake up in the morning there are always two things at my door: a cat and a newspaper."

"A cat?"

"Yeah, only I'm not so sure he's really a cat, because the guy who got the paper before me had the same cat, and that was... well, it was a _really_ long time ago. Now can I go back to sleep?"

"You used the paper to win some bets, too. Do you do that often?"

"No, I try to avoid it. The only reason I did it here was because I was broke with no way of accessing my bank account. Besides, the cost of living is twice as high here as... where I was before."

"Why don't you use the paper to make yourself rich?"

"It doesn't work that way. Every time I try to do something for myself that I don't need, something always goes wrong. Really wrong."

"Has it ever occurred to you to show the paper to the police? They could really get ahead of the criminals with something like that."

"Eh... they don't listen so good. Besides, the paper comes to _me._ Other people have tried to take charge of it before - someone even kidnapped the cat. But in the end, the paper always comes to me, along with the cat. One way or another. And I don't want police coming around for the paper all the time. I do what I can, and I tip off the police when I need to."

"Sounds like a weighty responsibility."

"It is. But I'm kind of used to it. So, now I have a question for you. Now that you know all this, what are you going to do about it?"

"The police might not be ready to listen to you, but I am. If you get a headline that's too dangerous for you to handle, give me a call."

"You have a phone?"

The Arrow tossed a phone onto the bed. "It's unlisted, untraceable. I'm the number-one speed dial."

"Speed dial?"

The Arrow did a double take. Did this guy not actually know what speed dial was?

"Sorry, I've never liked mobile phones... never got the hang of them."

 _You're kidding. How is this possible?_ "Hit any button to wake the phone up. Touch the number one and then send; that's the green one. When the battery runs low you can use any mini USB cable to charge it."

"A what-cable?"

There was no way he was playing dumb. He was completely serious. "Oh, my god," the Arrow said under his breath. "You really don't know what that is?"

"I know, I'm behind the times. Sorry."

The Arrow sighed and went to the bedside table where there was a pad of paper and quickly wrote some instructions down in block letters. "Just tell your host you lost your phone charger and he'll buy you one." He headed back toward the window.

"Thanks."

The Arrow waved and climbed over the sill. Gary certainly was one quirky individual.

* * *

"If he calls, let me know asap," Barry told Ollie over the phone. "I wish I could stay there and watch it all go down, but..."

"Your city needs you," Ollie finished for him. "I understand."

"Keep an eye on that mystic cat."

"Will do."

Felicity smiled up at Ollie from her chair. "So... any chance we can take the rest of the night off and wait for Gary to call in the morning?"

"Mm... maybe." Ollie tucked his phone into his pocket and leaned on the computer desk. "How about this: Dig and I will split up and do a quick patrol of the Glades. If there's no major trouble, we'll call it a night."

Her expression turned sour. "Guess that's the best offer I'll get. Get out there, then. Sooner you do, sooner I'll sleep."

"I just want to remind you that you volunteered for this job," Ollie said, voice dripping sweetness.

"Come on," said Dig. "The lady's right. Quick to work, soon to sleep."

Ollie checked over his equipment and pulled up his hood before heading out the back with Dig.

It was a fairly quiet night for the Glades - a mugging that broke up at the first arrow, some sort of black market deal that got indefinitely postponed by Dig, and a few stoners that scurried away like roaches in sunlight.

Ollie got back to the mansion around 3:30 am. Too tired to put on pajamas, he tore off his outer clothes and fell into bed.

* * *

Apparently Ollie either slept like the dead or he hadn't slept in the mansion last night. Gary made quite a bit of noise finding his way around the huge house, but he didn't hear any stirring. He found something to eat while he read the paper that had appeared around 6:30 as usual.

Nothing was pressing within the next couple of hours, so Gary took the time to shower. Then he decided to see whether or not Ollie was in his room. He knocked on the door and called softly.

"Coming," Ollie called. After a moment, he opened the door a crack. "Morning."

"Did I wake you up?" Gary asked, noticing scars on Ollie's shoulders... and his chest... and his abs... And tattoos: an eight-pointed star and some kanji. He looked back up at Ollie's face, trying hard to look as if none of it bothered him. He felt as if he had seen that star before.

"It's fine," Ollie said, still sounding sleepy.

"How late were you at the club?"

Ollie shrugged. "Late. Had some stuff to take care of after closing. What's up?"

"I wondered if you could get your driver to take me into town."

"Eh, he was up as late as me. I'll drive you. It'll be more fun, trust me."

"Oh... uh..."

"Did you have breakfast?"

"I found some bread so I made toast."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I need to get some real food in here. Tell you what - we'll stop for something on the way."

"Well... I have several leads on stories, so I'd be going from one place to another..."

"Don't worry about it. Just give me a minute to get some clothes on." Ollie closed the door again.

Gary blinked at the door. Then he shook his head and wandered slowly down the hall. It might be all right to let Ollie drive him. After all, the day before he had sounded like he wanted to help. And the stories that needed to be changed shouldn't be too hard to handle today.

Sooner than one would have expected, Ollie emerged from his room and walked briskly to catch up with Gary.

"Okay, let's go. Where do you like to eat?"

"Um... I don't know. Somewhere with bacon and eggs and quick service?"

"You got it."

Gary thought it would be hard to get through breakfast fast enough, but Ollie matched his pace and was ready to go less than half an hour after they sat down in the little diner. He drove Gary to his first stop and asked surprisingly few questions about what they were doing there.

"Need any help?" Ollie asked, turning off his car.

"No," said Gary. "This shouldn't take long, so it's probably best if you just wait in the car."

"Okay. I'll be waiting."

Ten minutes later, Gary was back at the car, the stress of his first task already fading.

"All set?" asked Ollie.

"Yeah. Next I need to see someone at the gun shop on Trade Street."

Ollie nodded and pulled the car out of its parking space. He was quiet, and Gary wondered why he didn't ask if he was working on a news story, or if he was into firearms. Maybe he was just sleepy.

At the gun shop, all Gary had to do was ask to see the gun mentioned in the paper, open the magazine and discover that the gun was actually loaded. The manager removed the bullets and Gary made his exit, passing the customer who would have accidentally shot himself as he went.

"That's all my business until this afternoon," Gary told Ollie.

"Great. Since we have lots of time, we can go to a nice sit-down place for lunch," Ollie suggested. "Then when you have your afternoon thing, I can pick up some groceries for the house."

"Um, sure."

"Great. Do you like sushi? I've got a craving."

Ollie seemed happy to treat him, so Gary went along with his idea. He had expected letting Ollie drive him around to be a disaster waiting to happen, but so far everything had gone smoothly.

Gary wasn't big on fish, but it started to grow on him - maybe it was Ollie's contagious enthusiasm for the dish.

"This one's red snapper," Ollie said, pointing to a row of seaweed-wrapped rolls. "This one's squid, and this one's... I forget. Oh yeah, that one's sweet potato. In case you don't have the stomach for the other stuff. Go ahead and grab a whole piece; it's not rude to put all that in your mouth at once. If they didn't want you to, they would have cut it smaller."

"Okay." Gary laughed self-consciously. He tried the snapper first and was surprised to find that he might almost like it. Then he tried the squid, which he couldn't quite make up his mind about. The sweet potato roll was delicious, but still an odd texture because of the seaweed.

Noticing his fork, Ollie said, "Don't know how to use chopsticks?"

"I was never good at it," Gary admitted. "My parents tried to teach me with the little drawings on the package... but they gave up in the end."

"Sometimes it takes a while to get the hang of it. It's just a little more complicated than holding a pen or something - you just have to support one chopstick while you move the other against it. Here, hold this like you would a pen."

Gary took a chopstick doubtfully and did as he was told.

"Okay, now slide this one in here..." Ollie held Gary's hand still as he slid the second chopstick into place. "Now just take a second to get a sense of how that feels." After giving him a moment, Ollie went on. "Now practice moving them apart and together."

Gary practiced for a minute. At first he was surprised at how easy it seemed, but then the lower chopstick slipped out of his grasp. Ollie picked it up and put it back in place for him. After a little more practice, he was ready to try picking up food.

After a failed attempt, Gary managed to grab one of the sushi roll sections and carefully convey it to his mouth without dropping it.

Ollie applauded. "Nice. Next time your parents see you, you'll be a pro."

Gary smiled, but he wondered just when (or if) he would see his parents again. He wondered if they were both still alive in 2015. He didn't like to think about it.

"So, where can I drop you off this afternoon?" Ollie asked, seeming to sense that a change of subject was in order.

"There's an apartment complex on Mason Street..."

"I know it; it's near the Glades."

"Yeah. If you could just drop me off there and I'll call you when I'm done?"

"Oh, I thought you didn't have a phone..."

"I thought I'd left it in my luggage by accident," Gary invented, "but I actually found it this morning."

"Great."

"I do need a charger, though."

"Sure, I'll pick one up for you. Is it a mini USB?"

"Yeah." Gary was relieved that Ollie had known what to expect - he hadn't brought the Arrow's notes along, and he doubted he could have remembered the correct initials.

"Okay, sounds good."

Gary persevered with the chopsticks until he was having more success than failure. By that time, Ollie was finished eating.

A Japanese waitress approached their table. "You would like dessert?" she asked.

"What do you think?" Ollie asked Gary.

Gary shook his head. "I've had enough."

Ollie turned back to the waitress. _"Īe, kekkōdesu. Tada, chekku onegaishimasu."_

Gary dropped a load of rice off his chopsticks.

 _"Shōchi shimashita,"_ the waitress answered with a wide smile.

"You speak Japanese?" Gary asked.

"I picked up a bit," Ollie said. "I can also ask her where the restroom is, and tell her I'm an American citizen."

Gary laughed. "Well, those are all useful things."

"Yup."

This guy was full of surprises. Gary felt like he was waiting for the spoiled side of Ollie to come out, and instead he continued to seem more and more charming.

"So, how do I say thank you?" Gary asked as they were about to leave the restaurant.

 _"Arigatōgozaimashita."_

"Uh... what he said," Gary told the waitress.

She giggled. "Thank you! Come again."

"Okay."

Ollie drove Gary to his next stop and let him out at the curb.

"Thanks for lunch," said Gary. "It was fun."

"No problem. I'll be waiting for your call."

Gary waved him off and headed into the building. Once he warned a maintenance crew that their small repair job needed to turn into a major renovation to save the structural integrity of the building, he would be free until late at night. He wasn't sure how he would handle the night problem, but at least he had several hours to think about it.

* * *

 _Hope I got my Japanese correct - my beta and I employed Google for help. If you know Japanese and you have any corrections to make, feel free. What Ollie said was, "No thanks. Just the check, please." And the waitress answered, "Yes, sir."  
_

 _Also - any comments at all are welcome. I have cool stuff planned for you guys, but I need all the encouragement I can get._


	17. Grilled Cheese And Tomato Soup

_I'm back! I reread the story (yeah, took forever) and got back into the groove enough to crank out another chapter. Sorry if the writing time gap leaves a bumpy transition between chapters. Here's a little fluff and some rising action for you. As always, thank you to those who have read and commented; please continue to do so.  
_

* * *

Driving Gary around actually was fun. Ollie was good at pretending to be clueless, and Gary wasn't all that perceptive, it seemed. But he was close to Ollie's age and pleasant company. Sometimes it was like having Tommy around again, but sometimes Gary just reminded Ollie that he would never get Tommy back... Tommy knew how to use chopsticks. Tommy knew every single school that Ollie had attended; they had attended a few of them together, and Tommy had even gotten himself expelled on purpose once, since Ollie had and he wanted to switch schools with him. Tommy knew this city.

Still, it was kind of nice teaching things to a new friend. Maybe that was what having a kid brother was like. Once he and Tommy had locked in as best friends, Ollie hadn't tried very hard to make more friends. Starting over wasn't all bad. It was exciting. Someone who didn't know all his jokes, someone who would still be impressed by his status and skills... And Gary was intriguing, too. As soon as he was out of sight Ollie wanted desperately to know what he was doing and how and why. He wanted to tell Gary his secret, even though he knew it was much too soon. Maybe if he did, Gary would stop holding back and tell him the whole story of the paper.

He communicated with Felicity and Diggle a bit and did some shopping as he had planned. He still wasn't completely used to grocery shopping - the housekeeper usually did that, but they'd had to let her go. He stocked up on milk, eggs and bread. Then, remembering Gary's resorting to toast for breakfast he got some bacon and cereal. He added several more items and surveyed his buggy. Satisfied that he had enough to keep them going a while, he headed to the checkout, grabbing a bunch of bananas off a stand on his way by.

He was moving groceries to the trunk of the car when Gary called him.

"Hey, it's me... Gary," Gary said.

"Yeah, I know," Ollie said, smiling. "I put you in my phone, remember?" From what he had told the Arrow, Gary probably didn't know what caller ID was...

"Anyway, I'm ready to go back to the house whenever you are."

"Okay. I'm done getting groceries, so I'll come get you in about fifteen minutes."

Soon Ollie was popping the passenger door open for Gary to get into the car.

"How's your leg?" Ollie asked.

"Sore," Gary answered, gingerly maneuvering his injured limb into the car. "I'll need another painkiller when we get back to the house."

"I think you should try to stay off it for the rest of the day. You can hang out at the club or just chill at home. Besides, you have to see the Dark Knight... it's half the reason to watch Batman Begins in the first place."

Gary smiled a little. "I guess I've got nothing better to do."

Ollie insisted that Gary go relax on the couch as soon as they got home. He unloaded the groceries, surprised to see that his bananas were somewhat brown on the bottom.

When he commented on it, Gary said, "Did they get bagged with your cold stuff?"

Ollie frowned. "Yeah... I think they were with the ham and cheese."

"Bananas don't like the cold. I hope you didn't put them in the refrigerator."

"No; They're in a fruit bowl. I never knew that... spoiled rich kid, right?"

"A lot of people make it to adulthood without learning that. But your cashier should have known better."

"Maybe she did it on purpose," Ollie said, smirking a little.

"That would be an awful petty grudge if spoiling your bananas is her idea of revenge."

Ollie chuckled. "Yeah, you're right." He set up the blu-ray. "I'm going to start heating some soup and making sandwiches. Go ahead and start without me." He tossed the remotes to Gary.

In the kitchen, he sent a text to Thea before getting out a saucepan and a can opener. Once the soup was started, he got out a frying pan to make fried cheese sandwiches.

A few minutes later, he got a reply from Thea: _Ur cooking? Gotta see. Be there in fifteen._

He smiled and put his phone away. He went to the kitchen door and yelled through the dining room, "Thea's coming for dinner."

"Okay," Gary called back.

Ollie decided to go ahead and make the informal meal fancy. He arranged finished sandwiches on a platter and poured the hot soup into a large tureen. He put everything onto a rolling cart and was making his way through the dining room when he heard Thea's voice in the living room.

"Is that the Dark Knight? Good choice."

"Soup's on," Ollie announced, pushing the cart over by the couch. "Thea, will you serve?"

"I might have known it would be grilled cheese and tomato," she teased. "That and pancakes are all he knows how to make." She cleared a few magazines off the coffee table and set out bowls and spoons from the cart.

"Not true," Ollie said in a lofty tone. "I learned how to cook birds and large rodents over an open fire when I was on the island."

Her eyes got big and she looked like she wasn't sure if she should laugh or not. "Large rodents? For real?"

"Mm... rabbits are rodents, right?"

"Wrong. They're..." Thea paused with a ladle hovering over the soup tureen. "It starts with an L. Lagomorphs. Not rodents."

"Okay, fine. You obviously paid attention in biology."

Gary laughed quietly. "So, this island...?"

"I was shipwrecked on an island," Ollie said, taking a full bowl of soup and handing it to Gary. "For five years."

"Oh... wow. That's... incredible."

"He doesn't talk about it much," Thea said bluntly.

"It wasn't a fun experience," Ollie added.

"No, I... I wouldn't think so," said Gary.

"But I've been back in civilization for about two years now. I'm doing much better, obviously."

"Speaking of doing better, how's your leg?" Thea asked Gary.

"It's okay. I'm going to try to stay off it as much as I can."

"Good. I had a friend who messed up her ankle. It was supposed to heal in three or four weeks, but she wouldn't stay off it. It's still giving her trouble six months later. So, stick to doctor's orders."

They settled down to finish the movie while they ate. Ollie asked Thea quietly who was watching the club and she told him Roy had agreed to handle things for a couple of hours. Ollie relaxed. He knew knew even better than Thea did that Roy was reliable and trustworthy.

When the movie was over, Thea stretched noisily. "Well," she moaned, "I better go back to Verdant. Ollie, you coming?"

"I guess I should, being the manager and all," he said. "Gary, you want to hang out with us, or stay here?"

"I'd probably better stay here and take it easy," Gary answered.

"Okay. Just call if you need anything. Better yet, text. The club can be really loud."

"Oh-okay."

 _Why do I get the feeling he doesn't know how to text?_

* * *

Gary was relieved to be left alone in the Queen mansion. Hanging out with Ollie and Thea was nice, but he didn't want to have to give them an excuse to leave. He reread the newspaper story that was his last concern for the day. He thought about calling the police and giving an anonymous tip. That occasionally worked.

He got out the phone the Arrow had given him and nearly punched in a number. Then he remembered that the police could trace even calls from cell phones, and if the call came from the vicinity of the Queen mansion, it might cause trouble for Ollie. Besides, who knew how far their tracing abilities had evolved in 2015? Maybe they would know his exact location instantly. It was best to call a cab, go to a busy area of town and make his call from there.

Within half an hour, Gary was sitting in the quietest corner of a cafe, coffee and newspaper in front of him.

 _Here goes,_ he thought, dialing the Starling City Police Department. After waiting a few minutes to talk to a real person, Gary asked for officer Lance.

"Lance speaking," Lance finally answered.

"Hello, officer," Gary said, keeping his voice low and almost monotone to disguise it slightly. "I have some information about a robbery."

"All right. What's your name?"

"That's not important. The robbery will happen just before midnight tonight."

"How do you know this?"

"I can't tell you how I know; I have to protect my own interests... you understand."

"Sure, sure. And where is this robbery supposed to take place?"

"At a pawn shop on the edge of the Glades - It's called Chester's."

A pause; the sound of typing; then Lance spoke again. "Oh, yeah. I know it. You have any details for me?"

"Um... just that there's probably at least three guys in on the job... They're after the gold and silver stuff... and small electronics," Gary said, scanning over the story again.

"You overheard them talking about it?"

"Like I said... I can't -"

"Can't tell me how you know," Lance finished. "Just before midnight, you said?"

"Yeah."

"All right. Now, if I need to get a hold of you again, where can I call?"

Gary looked at his phone, located the "end" button and pressed it, relieved when the phone screen told him he was disconnected. Cell phones were so... foreign.

He looked at the paper and at first it seemed that the story was gone. Then he realized it had merely moved to the front page. "Aw, dammit," he muttered.

The story now told how police officers had been unprepared for the level of resistance put up by the night looters at the pawn shop. It ended in a shootout that injured an officer and one of the thieves, as well as causing thousands of dollars in damages.

Gary considered calling Lance back to tell him the thieves would be armed, but finally decided against it. He picked up his phone again and pressed the number 1 button and "send."

* * *

It was Friday night and the club was full of activity. Ollie offered to write Roy a check for his help, but the latter told him, "Put it on my tab."

Ollie took a minute to make a note in the computer of what they owed him before going down to help Thea behind the bar.

"So, I like this DJ," he shouted over the music.

Thea nodded. "The customers like him, too. There's not much real dancing going on though, is there?"

Ollie looked over the crowd of young people who were mostly just bouncing up and down or waving their arms mosh-pit style. "Guess not." He smiled and shrugged at her.

"We need to get an actual dance scene going. And I had an idea for tonight."

She walked away and Ollie followed her with his eyes, curious. She tapped the DJ on the shoulder and he lowered the music to a barely audible level.

"Hey, everyone," Thea said, picking up the DJ's microphone. She was met with enthusiastic cheers. "Just wanted to say I hope you're having a great time, and we have a special experiment for you tonight."

More applause. Thea was a charismatic hostess.

"Scott has agreed to take requests..." she put up a hand to stop the premature applause. "...so we can have some karaoke tonight!"

The crowd erupted into cheers that were more like screams.

"So, think about what you want to sing and write your name and song on the whiteboard in front of the bandstand. If this goes over well, we'll do karaoke every Friday until summer hits! How does that sound?"

Ollie grinned and applauded with the rest. Then he thought he felt his phone buzzing. The one he used as the Arrow. He slipped away to the back and down to headquarters where Felicity was inevitably doing something on the computer. He answered the phone and put it on speaker. "Hello?"

"Hello... Uh, I have a problem."

"Gary?" Felicity mouthed silently.

Ollie nodded to her. "What is it?"

"Well, there's a robbery planned for tonight - Chester's pawn shop on the edge of the Glades..."

At a glance from Ollie, Felicity began looking up the location.

"What time?"

"A little before midnight. I told officer Lance, but... I don't think they're taking it too seriously."

"What does the paper say?"

Gary hesitated a little before answering, "It says they have guns. People get hurt."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"Uh... okay..."

"Any more details I need?"

Rustling paper, silence. "No, I think that's it."

"Good. Just take it easy, Gary. I've got this."

"Okay. Thanks."

Ollie ended the call and walked over to Felicity. "Got it?"

"Yup," she answered. "Looks like a pretty sleazy place."

"People will get hurt if we don't stop it; that's all that's important. See what Dig's up to, will you?" Ollie moved away a little and called Roy. "We've got action tonight; you want in?" he asked.

"When and where?" Roy asked in answer.

Ollie gave him the details and went back to Felicity.

"Dig's got a family thing," she said, looking a little concerned.

"Tell him that's okay," Ollie said. "Roy and I should be able to handle it. I'll send the Canary a text too, just so she'll be ready if we need to call her in."

"Sounds good. Be careful, okay?"

"Always am. I'd better get back to the club now. Thea will be annoyed if I'm MIA during her karaoke experiment."

Felicity perked up a little. "Karaoke? For real?"

"Yeah, wanna come? If we go back in the front together, you can be my excuse for sneaking away."

She smiled. "I will _always_ be your excuse for sneaking away," she said, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

* * *

 _I do love Felicity. So, I managed to come back to this story after getting busy with other things; how about managing to comment on this chapter?_


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